


Making Dry Bones Live

by WinterHobbit



Series: Captain America: Wakandan Soldier [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Black Panther (2018) Post-Credits Scene, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dehumanization, Eating Disorders, F/M, Goats, Historical References, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Period-typical feelings about mental health, Planet Bucky, Post-Black Panther (2018), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Therapy, Wakanda (Marvel), Wakandan Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 77,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterHobbit/pseuds/WinterHobbit
Summary: Shuri has freed Bucky from the triggers, but Bucky still has to recover and to deal with the guilt. How does Bucky learn to open up again as a human being? Can he trust himself after all that has happened? This is also my answer as to why Shuri would have Bucky recover in a Wakandan village and not a city.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Shuri, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: Captain America: Wakandan Soldier [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733806
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	1. The Difficult Life of Living in a Hut

Bucky startled awake as fear, death and screaming receded along with the cold fingers of cryofreeze. His ragged breath brought in the soothing lavender scent that seemed to fall thickly from the underside of a neatly thatched roof. Foreboding surrounded him like a blanket, but it receded with the remains of a nightmare as he continued to breathe in and out until he calmed down. He realized he was now sitting on the bed hugging himself and rocking. He stopped.

He took in another deep breath; he was sitting on the most comfortable rustic bed he’d sat on in his life. He looked around. A rustic blanket was now huddled against the far wall; he must have thrown it. The hut had gourds on the walls, a dirt floor, and a few baskets. There were no torture machines, no bars, and no locked door. He picked up the blanket and placed it on the bed. Even though he heard a sound from outside, he still felt oddly safe. Relatively safe, there were now three pairs of eyes staring at him from the flimsy cloth barrier pushed aside. The children with painted faces ran away when he looked at them.

“Oh yeah, I’m in Wakanda.”

Outside, he heard Shuri’s voice. “Are you bothering him?” Shuri asked the Wakandan children in English. “He needs his rest.”

“No,” they replied innocently, also in English. The fact they were talking in English meant they were aware he might be eavesdropping. He hadn’t known the children knew English, but then, today was the closest he’d seen them. 

Could hostiles barge in? No, he was safe here. He remembered Shuri’s commands, “I’m not telling you what to do, but did you know it’s a good idea to take a shower in the morning?” He trudged off to the nearly hidden shower wondering why Wakandan commands often came with an odd disclaimer. As an Asset, he shouldn’t use hot water, so he took a quick, cold shower. He put on the paste that would protect him from the sun, another of Shuri’s commands. Funny, he didn’t remember any screaming pain associated with sunburning.

Now he executed a perimeter check of the lake, even though he was guarded by Dora Milaje. He stopped to survey the lake but did not allow himself to enjoy the light breeze that ruffled his hair and caused the lake to ripple. He found no hostiles, only goats and chickens. He tried to avoid the people, but Shuri came up to him, beaming, “Good morning, Sgt. Barnes. You took a shower! Very good.” Then she frowned, “Are those the clothes you wore yesterday and the day before? That’s fine of course, but did you know you could change your clothes?”

He stared at her; he had failed to perform a task! He should have known better, Steve had given him the same reaction before Steve had abandoned him. “It’s all right,” Shuri said, “Are you hungry?”

That was the command to have breakfast, but he’d failed in the clothing task. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He went back into the hut and stared at the pile of clothes. There were Wakandan and Western clothes in many colors, some of them bright, but the soothing black clothes were on the bottom of the pile. How did he decide in Romania again? The clothes on the top.

So he came out, hoping Shuri had gone somewhere else, but she hadn’t. She beamed again, “You changed your clothes! I hope you did it because you wanted to.” What did she mean by that? “Are you hungry now?” Good, he had not yet failed in the breakfast task. 

“Yes,” he said. A command sometimes required confirmation of comprehension.

“What would you like to eat?” Steve had asked him the same thing, but he never knew how to answer. Luckily, he also knew that if he maintained silence long enough, they would bring out some items and he would eat the food that was closest to him. “Some day you will pick yourself, but Captain Rogers has told us about some food you liked in Brooklyn,” Shuri said. 

He sat down on the low, curved wall with cushions on it. There was a table, but since there was a table and a wall, he assumed assets ate on the wall while handlers ate at the table. “I know you like sitting on the wall,” Shuri said, “But did you know could sit on a cushion? It might feel better, but you don’t have to sit on a cushion if you don’t want to.” That was a command to sit on a cushion. He sat on a cushion; oddly enough, it felt better. 

He ate starting in the upper right of the plate, finishing each type of food and then going on the next in a clockwise fashion until the plate was finished. He didn’t remember how he’d eaten before he’d woken up in Wakanda, so he’d had to come up with the protocol on his own - a scary task that had left him exhausted. The only thing he’d really remembered was that HYDRA had expected him to eat fast, and that he’d often been hungry, but Wakandan food was so intensely flavorful it was hard to eat fast; it was also never stale, burnt, or mushy.

“What would you like to do now?” Shuri asked when he’d finished. This was the command he dreaded the most. By this point, interacting with a human always made him want to go back to the safe house, but he could not detect what task he was expected to do at this point. So he sat there. Shuri nodded, “I’ll leave you so you can decide what you want to do. I’m glad you came out of the hut and ate, but I am happy with whatever you do.” He was not sure he had enough provisions, so when Shuri left, he tried to study the guards without alerting them to his study of them. Then he walked close to the food hut. He knew he could go into the hut at any time, but he felt uncomfortable about simply taking food. But what happened if he were hungry and he came to the hut to find they’d taken it away? He waited until the guards saw something in the lake, and he sneaked in. Lucky for him they always seemed to find something interesting in the lake when he wanted to slip into the food hut. It was almost uncanny.

There were an overwhelming array of choices: white and brown bread, peanuts, oranges, apples, tomatoes, plums, corn chips, little cans of spam and vienna sausages, mangos, guava, dried fish, plaintain chips, and cassava bread. There were also items he recognized from the Romanian apartment, although he’d gotten them from the old lady who ran the German import store: cans of Almdudler (an Austrian carbonated drink) and Chipsfrish potato chips. But the most puzzling thing was they didn’t have the Fritt Karamell Toffees, they had Storck Karamell Riesen, which was similar but different. He picked up some bread, vienna sausages, plums, and potato chips and then peeked out. The guards were still looking at the lake, so he sneaked out, wondering how such highly trained guards always managed to be occupied the moment he wanted to go into the food hut. They didn’t know, did they? He stashed the food under his bed; it was getting full, but he liked having two of everything because that meant he could eat one and still have another left. The only other thing under the bed was the punching ball that was for stress, but he was afraid to use it because he might get angry and kill everyone.

Bucky knew he was overdue in writing a letter to Steve. His former friend had commanded he write dispatches for some reason even though the blond man had abandoned him. Maybe Bucky needed to reassure Steve that abandoning him was within acceptable parameters. But Steve was a handler, why would he need reassuring? No, he wasn’t a handler! But he had asked for letters and Bucky hadn’t been able to put his experience into words before, and the blond was probably angry over that, too. He sat on his bed and wrote.


	2. Dear Steve

Bucky sat on his bed and began writing with the fountain pen Steve had given him:

Dear Steve:

He paused, what could he say about this place?

_The threat condition appears to be low in the village. Shuri has ordered that I should do “whatever I want,’” but she hasn’t told me what I should want. I have asked for another briefing for more detailed intel on the mission, but that was the wrong response. However, I was not punished._

He quickly crossed out the line about punishment; no need to remind people! Then he paused, remembering Shuri’s odd face when he’d requested more intel. Should he admit this to Steve? His mind felt filled with gauze, but that was better than the blood-filled guilt or the aching, hollow darkness. He shivered as he avoided picturing what would happen if the gauze ever went away. Back to the letter. He took out the line about wrong response and reread his letter. Now he was worried about how he was making the handler Shuri sound. Then he remembered that Steve frowned when he talked like he was nothing but a soldier.

He started the letter again:

_Dear Steve:  
I have been told to do “whatever I want” but do not know what I want._

Bucky nodded, pleased with himself. Steve would like finally getting a letter. Now for describing the hut:

_Reconnaissance of the inside of the hut has revealed that the door is made of flimsy material. There is only one door which opens to the outside. While the hut is very basic, it is somehow very comfortable._

Bucky frowned and took out the last line. He had no business noticing comfort. Besides, it sounded dumb. He was surprised that a nation as advanced as Wakanda would resort to huts, but Shuri had said something about finding yourself by being lost in the howling wilderness. He paused, wondering if he’d remembered that correctly.

He huffed when he reread his letter and realized he was talking like a soldier again. He started yet another letter. How much paper was he going to waste? This was unacceptable.

_Dear Steve:_

He paused. This was getting very old. If he couldn’t talk about threat levels or perimeter checks, what could he talk about?

_There is a lot of food here. When I stay in the hut all day, Shuri brings in many types of food, not just bread and water. The food is different every day and is full of flavor. I get meat every day. and I eat three meals a day and snacks in between._

He paused, was this allowable to write about? But he thought about food a lot. He wasn’t sure if he remembered eating when he was the Asset, but if he did, he pictured hard, dark bread, porridge, hard-boiled eggs, something mushy that may have been vegetables of some kind, tinned meat, and some kind of tangy, sourish milky drink (the handlers didn’t bother to tell him what it was, but he’d asked Natasha, and she thought it might have been whey). In Romania and probably whatever other European countries he’d been through, he ate whatever was cheap: the cheapest bread, fruits and vegetables, fish, and chicken. But here the food was different every single day. He loved it, but it was so intensely flavorful, he had to eat it a little at a time. He shook his head at such a stupid thought and turned back to the letter. Just to be safe, he added:

_Food is important to keep the body in combat readiness._

He paused; he wasn’t a soldier anymore, so he took out the word “combat.”

He continued writing:  
 _I know I am here to heal and to figure out who I am. I comply with all commands._

When he understood them, anyway. He paused, again. He even took the drugs they gave him, which had scared him until he found they never hurt him.

_I write in the notebooks you gave me and look at the drawings of Bucky. Thank you for them._

It was good manners to thank Steve, but it also made him feel very good.

_Beyond the huts, there are brown chickens behind wire fences, but they do not mind being fenced in. Beyond them are goats behind sturdier fences. I think some of them mind their imprisonment, but most of the time, they are busy climbing the hut that is in their enclosure and pushing off any goat that gets there before them._

He paused again, wondering if he could free the goats, but the guards would probably stop him. Were the guards his handlers? No, he didn’t have a handler, he was here to become a human being… And yet they imprisoned the goats and guarded the huts. 

_Shuri said that no one would approach me unless I initiated it, but there are three children who appear interested in me. They first appeared halfway down the lake, poorly concealed by bushes. They stared at me intently, and when I stared back at them, they crashed through the bushes as they ran away, making their position._

They were rank amateurs who took unusual interest in him, but somehow he wasn’t threatened by them, after the first time he’d seen them when he had to determine threat levels, anyway. Now it had actually become a bit of a game, and sometimes the only reason he went out of the hut was to pretend he didn’t see the children, wait for them to creep close, and then suddenly look at them; they always ran away. 

_They shriek as they run away, but not because they are afraid I will kill them. They get closer each time. One day they stared from behind the cook’s hut which is next to the one I occupy, and today, they stared from the entrance of this hut. ___

__He reread his letter; just thinking about the children almost made him feel at peace. It was good to have written the letter, but now he had to dispatch it._ _


	3. Contact

He brought the letter with him as he left the hut, wondering if he’d meet Shuri and be able to give her the letter. He was his own handler, and he should act like one and make his own mission protocols. He already had quite a list of daily tasks, showering, dressing, perimeter check, eating, and foraging, but there was still lots of day left.

The only other required task was to cut wood for Shuri, so that was his next objective. Shuri liked having a fire at night in the fire pit that was in the center of the circle of huts, and the cooks and their family or friends would all come together and tell stories, sing songs, and dance. Bucky felt the first night he’d been awake, they had all spoken in Wakandan, but once he’d woken, even before he’d ever stepped out of the hut (it had taken him a few days), they had spoken in English for part of the night. Bucky liked listening to them; they seemed to enjoy each other, and they had made him feel less alone. He knew he should probably join them if they were speaking English, but he always told himself he would …. next time. He still had no idea what he’d say to them.

In Romania he knew what to say because he was either at work or in the market. He did a perimeter check there too, then he did his manual-labor job, bought food in the marketplace, and then he’d gone to his apartment and maintained his guns. Sometime he even helped an elderly lady struggling to go up the stairs with her groceries, and she gave him the German candy or potato chips. Here he couldn’t figure what was required here, except for cut firewood for the fire pit. There were no guns to maintain, and he missed them dearly.

Still, the Wakandans had built a fire last night, so he should cut some more wood. Maybe that was his job. It was important to not depend on hand outs or stand in a soup line, even if he didn’t remember why one would stand in a soup line.

He chopped wood with his one hand, feeling less awkward than he had at first. They’d offered to make him a new arm someday while watching him for some reaction, but he didn’t want anything artificial just yet because he wasn’t sure how to be a human being; he’d remained silent, and they didn’t tell him when they would command him to get the arm.

With the chopping finished, he stared at the lake some more, watching the wind gently push the water. He’d always gone back to the hut at this point, but today the breeze gently ruffled his hair and caused ripples in the lake that bunched up before splashing the bit of land that jutted out. Somehow it muted the chaos just beyond the gauze in his mind. Birds came by, too, and twittered before leaving. Shuri was outside her hut sitting on a stool with some portable machinery around her, testing what looked like a kimoyo bead, but she did not approach him.

Then he heard the children whispering in Wakandan, which wasn’t smart because it made their position. They stopped whispering but inched closer. Was he really not supposed to overhear them? Bucky waited until he couldn’t stand it, and then he turned and stared in their direction. They gasped and ran away, crashing through the bushes and giggling; he almost smiled.

He heard someone laughing and turned to see Shuri on her stool outside the hut. He walked over, wondering what were the protocols for starting conversations. He used to know these things, and he even thought that once he was good at it. He longed for the safety of the hut. Finally, after a bit of silence, he decided to ask, “What are you working on?”

She held up a kimoyo bead, “This kimoyo bead fails but on an irregular basis, and I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with it.”

He handed her the letter, “This is for Steve.” She nodded. Bucky suddenly remembered she was a princess and leader of a busy Design Group, yet she was here in a village. “You must be very busy.”

She answered anyway, looking up at him, “No, I picked this because I could work on it here,” Shuri looked down, frowning, “It wasn’t working a moment ago and now it’s working perfectly.” She looked up again at Bucky, “It’s laughing at me.” She smiled and gave him a sideways glance, “Or maybe it likes you.” 

“You must have a busy schedule,” Bucky said. He vaguely wondered if that might be appropriate here.

Shuri shrugged, “This is a nice break.” She studied Bucky, “Besides, you remember Bashenga is five minutes from here?” Birnin Bashenga was a Wakandan city.

Bucky nodded, “You go in regularly.” She also nodded, and he realized that since he spent most of his time hiding in the hut, he wouldn’t have known.

He had no idea how to continue the conversation, but Shuri did. “Do the children bother you?”

“No, it’s kind of fun,” Bucky said, surprised at himself for saying such a thing.

Shuri smiled, “They like you.”

They were friendlies who made him feel less alone, and just like the people outside his hut having a good time at night, they were cheerful, but he didn’t have to talk with them. He sighed; his mission was somehow to become a human being, and that probably required talking to people. Maybe that should be another task. But he couldn’t if they all spoke Wakandan. He needed more intel.

“Does everyone speak English around here?” Bucky asked.

“Not everyone in the village, but some are learning,” Shuri said, “By the way, have you used the sun block? I wouldn’t want you to get a sunburn.”

There it was again. “I have complied.” Shuri frowned, but he didn’t know why. 

“I’ve never seen someone so pasty white,” Shuri said. “Do you really turn red if you burn?”

Bucky looked at her a moment, “Yes.” He pictured a very burned, skinny Steve on a crowded beach, which he would write about tonight in his notebooks. He paused, “Do you want me to go to the village?” Was it a command? For some reason, it was hard to tell in Wakanda.

“Oh no, whatever you want to do. I just mentioned it as an option.”

Maybe someone else was commanding it. “Do they want me to go?”

“The villagers? A few sounded a little interested in meeting you, but they are all busy with their regular lives, so they’re fine whatever you do.”

Deciphering commands continued to be an issue here. Maybe more intel would be useful. “What’s the village like?”

“The usual. They grow medicinal herbs around here, that’s why it’s called Namayeza, and they fish in the lake, they walk in the forest, they tend goats and chickens, they love the arts and nature, there’s a weekly market, and they work on technology assessment and technological convergence.”

Bucky stared at her, “In the village?” 

“Yes,” Shuri said, not knowing why he was surprised.

“Of course they do.” Every so often, the Wakandans reminded him they were not what he was expecting.

Shuri decided to change the subject, “Are you happy with what you do each day?”

What was required here? He decided on honesty. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Do you want more, do you want less, do you think you are just right?”

That almost reminded Bucky of something, “That’s a children’s story.” What was it?

She put her kimoyo bead down. “Really? Can you tell it to me? I love stories.”

She seemed excited, so he had given the required response. However, his mind was a blank. “I don’t remember… but someone eats porridge, but it’s too hot, the next bowl is too cold, but the next bowl is just right.”

“That sounds like a lovely story.”

“It has bears in it,” Bucky said. “And….. they’re Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” He spoke slowly at first, but he gained speed as it came to him, “There’s a papa bear, a mama bear, and a baby bear, and Goldilocks goes into their house, and she’s hungry, so first she tries the porridge, and one is too hot, and another’s too cold, but Baby bear’s is just right. Then she wants to sit in a chair, so she tries the chair of Papa bear, but it’s too high, and so is the chair of Mama bear, but Baby bear’s chair is just right, so she sits in it. But it can’t hold her weight, so it breaks. Then she’s sleepy, and she tries all their beds, and ends up in Baby bear’s. Then the bears come home, and she escapes into the forest.”

Shuri seemed to look a little blank. “Did she know the bears?”

“I am not aware that she did.”

“Then why did she eat their food and sleep in their bed?”

Bucky strained to retrieve the answer out of his memory banks. “I have no idea.”

Shuri laughed. “What a strange story, but I really like it,” Shuri said.

He shook his head, “It’s a stupid story.” He was an idiot for telling it and he should go back to hiding in the hut. What did he think he was doing out here? 

“No, it’s a good story, and that’s the most you’ve spoken to me since I’ve met you.” Bucky looked at the ground, wondering how he could leave. “Tomorrow we’re having porridge for breakfast,” Shuri said. “But we won’t invite any bears.”

More possible intel. “Are there any bears here?”

“None at all. There are chimpanzees, monkeys, and birds, but no bears, so you are safe. If you ever want to go hiking, or you want to see any of these animals, there are people in the village who love that kind of thing.”

“Do you?”

“I like listening to birds early in the morning and walking to the falls,” Shuri said. “Would you like to do that some time? You don’t have to, it’s a question.”

Another implied task. He didn’t know what they’d talk about as they walked. “That would be good.”

“The walk to the falls is beautiful. Sometimes I see monkeys and birds, too, and on sunny days, the butterflies form brilliant splashes of color.”

Bucky had no idea how to end the conversation, but he wanted to depart in the worst way.

“I will let you decide if we ever take that walk,” Shuri said, and Bucky nodded, but how was one to tell when they were required to walk? Shuri interrupted his thoughts, “Thank you for talking with me.”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said. Was that an implied command to go? He thought so, so he nodded a goodbye and left. Although bothered by a possible walk, he tried to feel pleased with himself for talking with her more in depth than he had before. Perhaps as a human being, after staring at the lake, he should talk to people. Then he hid in his hut for the rest of the day, exhausted by such strenuous conversational exertions.


	4. Eating Together

The next day began with three pairs of eyes staring at him from his own doorway before the children ran away giggling.

When he came out, Shuri was eating breakfast while sitting on a cushion on the low curved wall, not the table. He froze. Who ate at the table if she didn’t? Since he hadn’t eaten yet and he was curious if it were porridge, he marched over to her. “Would you like some porridge?” Shuri asked.

Bucky felt something warm inside him but didn’t know what to call it. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” Shuri smiled. The cook came over with porridge, and Shuri said, “I hope it’s just right.”  
Bucky thanked the cook, realizing this was the first time he was talking to her. Did the cook know English? He turned to Shuri, “What’s ‘thank you’ in Wakandan?” 

“ _Kos_ , or _enkosi_ , or _ndiyabulela_ ,” she said.

“ _Kos_ ,” Bucky told the cook, choosing the shortest version.

The cook lit up, “ _Wamkelekile_ ,” she said, “You’re welcome.” So she knew English.

“ _Kos, wamkelekile_.” He smiled, “Now I know two words.”

“Eh,” Shuri said slyly, “You’re good with the ladies.”

“I am not,” Bucky said.

“Steve said you were,” Shuri said.

“That was a long time ago,” Bucky said, his eyes growing distant. He took a bite of the porridge; it was different than expectations but it wasn’t unacceptable. “This is good.” He didn’t have a protocol for eating porridge, so he ate it like he did everything, from right to left, from up to down. Shuri said nothing, but he felt he was failing in the mission of eating porridge. Steve had been as quiet as Shuri when they first ate together. What was faulty about his choice? He tried to observe Shuri eat but couldn’t detect a pattern; he hadn’t been able to ascertain Steve’s either.

He froze, for he was talking to two people at once. How did one do that again? The cook left.

“Eshe is a very good cook,” Shuri said as she watched her leave. She turned to Bucky, “Would you like to learn some Wakandan?”

Was that a command? “Yes,” Bucky said.

“ _Wamkelekile_ is what you say to one person. If it’s a group, it’s _namkelekile_.”

“ _Wamkelekile, namkelekile_ ,” Bucky repeated. “And _kos_.” He thought a moment, “And her name is Eshe.” He nodded to Shuri, “Names are important.”

Shuri nodded. “Her family is with her, Bahati and Tamrat, and her husband Jafari is sometimes here, but you don’t have to remember all that.” 

His mind felt rusty, and all those names seemed a little overwhelming, but it was mission critical that he remember them. He felt like he was back at work in Romania when he’d had to memorize co-worker’s names. Still, he wanted to know about the children who giggled at him. “What are the children’s names?”

Shuri smiled, “Thabo and Zani are brother and sister, and Lencho is Thabo’s best friend.”

Bucky paused, “One is a girl?”

Shuri laughed, “You’re very observant.”

“Apparently.” He was definitely malfunctioning if he had not noticed that piece of information, but he’d been distracted because they painted their faces. And talking about malfunctioning…. “Steve asked me to write a letter, but it took me a long time to write because I…” because it was hard to put his experience into words, “…. and….well, I hope he’s not mad.”

“He’ll be pleased to get a letter,” Shuri said. “I passed it on.”

That was good, but why wasn’t Steve here? Bucky didn’t know how to bring it up, or even what he wanted to say. He finally came up with stating a fact, “He isn’t here.”

“No, he isn’t,” Shuri said, sad. “Do you know you can communicate by kimoyo bead?”  
Bucky blinked, “No.” Just how many things could kimoyo beads do?

“Do you want to communicate with him?” Shuri asked, studying his face.

“Of course,” Bucky said.

Shuri nodded, “It will be your decision. I will see if Steve is in a place where he can be contacted.” Bucky nodded, this would be their method of operation; Steve would conveniently be unavailable for contacting. “He asks about you all the time, but we wanted to give you space to decide your own schedule.” Right.

The next day he could definitely tell one of the children was a girl; she wore a dress as opposed to a robe tied over one shoulder. He’d failed again, but not knowing gender was not required when conducting a mission.

They couldn’t contact Steve, and Bucky wasn’t surprised.

Bucky took to eating with Shuri regularly, and he felt comfortable greeting Eshe the cook. 

“You like the wall, don’t you?” Shuri asked, as they sat down on the wall.

“Who eats at the table?” Bucky asked. Such intel might be important later.

Shuri paused, “Anyone can.” Bucky’s eyebrows raised. Shuri picked up her food, moved to the table, and looked at him with one eyebrow raised. Bucky followed; he wasn’t sure how it made him felt, but it felt… more than acceptable.

Eshe brought him food now, and he felt that maybe he was more of a human being since he was interacting with two adults and three children. He still never knew what was the right thing to say when asked for food choices, so thankfully Eshe would give a few options and then go with something. Some of the food choices were from what Bucky remembered from being on the run, some were from what he half-remembered from Before, and some were Wakandan. When she brought the food, she would tell him what it was and ask him if he liked it. He always did, of course, but somehow she could tell when he felt something was better than acceptable. When Shuri ate with him he noticed she added pepper or some such spice, though.

He said he liked everything they brought, whether porridge of maize, sorghum, and wheat, an omelet of beans and fish, maybe sambaza, or bread and fish for breakfast. He was content, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted to ask a question, even if he didn’t know how.


	5. First Question for Himself

A rising feeling in him grew until he worked up the courage to ask…. a Question. Not a question to determine information, a question for him. A memory from the past came, and he wanted….

Shuri noticed him squirming, “What’s wrong?”

“Um, do you have any orange juice?” Instantly he regretted it, seeing her reaction.

“Oh bother, and Steve mentioned it to me, too,” Shuri said, “Eshe, we didn’t bring any orange juice, did we?”

Eshe gave the same reaction, mumbling in Wakandan before saying. “I’ll get Tamrat to buy some. It’ll be ten minutes.”

“No, that’s all right, I was malfunctioning,” Bucky said, backing away.

“What? No you aren’t! You’re fine,” Shuri said.

“We needed other things too,” Eshe said, and Bucky was sure she was providing disinformation. “He was already going. It’s just to Bashenga and back.” She did something with her kimoyo beads.

“No, I don’t have to drink,” Bucky said.

“You know, I feel like some orange juice, too,” Shuri said. 

Bucky tried to come up with some explanation, “It has vitamins.”

Eshe and Shuri paused. “Yes, food has vitamins,” Eshe said, before seeming to kick herself. “What vitamins were you looking for? Vitamin C? Papaya juice has more vitamin C than orange juice.”

Bucky didn’t know what vitamins he was looking for. “That’s fine, that’s perfect.” It wasn’t. He shrugged, “My mother always had orange juice in the morning.” 

Eshe and Shuri suddenly beamed, and he didn’t know why. “That’s a beautiful memory!” Shuri said, “We definitely need orange juice.”

Eshe nodded, “My son will get some.”

Eshe’s son came back with orange juice, so they all had some and declared it perfect. Bucky never wanted to ask a question ever again.

Learning Wakandan was more successful. It also was an excuse for learning protocols on how to talk to people. “How do I greet people?”

“ _Molo_ when you are talking to one person, _molweni_ if talking to several,” Shuri said.

Bucky practiced that, but he asked Shuri, “If I say _molo_ to Eshe the cook, what if she asks me other questions? Do you ask ‘how are you’?”

Shuri paused, “How would you answer?”

“How am I?” Bucky asked. He paused, searching his memory banks, but there was only emptiness, and if he looked deeper, terror, death, blood, guilt, and pain, so he stopped. “I don’t know.”

Shuri nodded, “We’ll stick with _molo._ ”

Interestingly enough, Eshe never said anything beyond “hello.”


	6. A Talk with Steve

Bucky handed Shuri another letter for Steve, since Steve was still conveniently out of kimoyo-bead contact. This time, however, Shuri said, “We should check to see if we can contact Captain Rogers yet. I don’t want you to get worried - he’s not in danger - but he has been on a long mission.” Sure he was. “My brother told me the mission was over.” Shuri chewed her lip, “Do you want to talk to him?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no of course about it, it’s your decision.”

“Yes.”

Shuri nodded, “Captain Rogers has been bugging me to enable your kimoyo-vid for outside contact.” She rolled her eyes, “A lot.” So she had stopped it? Bucky didn’t want to question the decision of a handler but this was adverse information. Shuri sighed, “I wanted to make sure you had some time to sort things out, first.”

“Am I sorted?” Bucky asked.

“No, but enough, and talking to him should be your decision, not mine.” Shuri said. She glanced down at his wrist to see that he wasn’t wearing kimoyo beads. “Get your beads.” He did. “Turn it on here; Captain Rogers is this one here; we already bookmarked him, as it were. I’ll give you some privacy.” Then she walked away with a swing in her step that matched the relief in his heart. He would finally get to see his friend!

Bucky waited for her to leave and then initiated contact.

A tired, tense face greeted him. “Bucky! Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

Bucky immediately stiffened, “What’s gone wrong?”

“What?” Steve asked, puzzled.

A voice, Sam’s, came from ‘off camera,’ “Shuri told you to be calm when you talked to him, and you told her not to worry.”

Steve took a deep breath and put on a fake smile, “How’s the weather?”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said. What was so important about the weather that they were talking about it now?

“I’m glad you’re calling. I’m just a little surprised because every time I asked to talk with you, Shuri shut me down.”

“She did?”

Sam said from ‘off camera,’ “Are you going to tell him you nearly snuck in to Wakanda, which would have gotten you escorted out?”

“What?” Bucky asked, alarmed.

Steve counted to three, “Sam, could you give us a little space?” He presumably watched Sam leave before turning to Bucky, “I didn’t.”

“Then why did he say that?”

“Because I thought about it, but that would anger the Wakandans and they’ve been very generous. Enough about me, how are you doing?” Steve asked. Bucky shrugged, not knowing the correct answer. “How is the village?”

“The food is acceptable,” Bucky said. “Sometimes the lake is as calm as glass, but sometimes there are little waves that hit a promontory or a little beach. I chop wood for Shuri and play games with children.” He paused, running back in his mind what he just said, “That’s pathetic.” He sounded like an idiot.

Steve smiled wistfully, “That sounds perfect.”

Conversation protocols included a give and take. What question should he ask again? “Uh, what have you been doing?” Wow, conversations were hard work.

“Well, we found a cache of stolen Chitauri tech a few days ago and have disposed of it, but we made the owners a little unhappy, and that led to a little adventure. We had to keep radio silence for a bit because we didn’t know if they had any surveillance tech that would….”

“Steve, you’re not bleeding out as we’re talking here, are you? Because if you try to pretend that everything’s fine and then you drop dead…” Bucky said, before freezing as he realized he had just interrupted a handler giving a briefing.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Steve said. Off camera, Sam was laughing. Steve sighed and looked away, “Sam.”

“I’m leaving,” Sam said from out of sight.

“You said that last time,” Steve told the retreating Sam before turning back and seeing Bucky frowning, “What’s wrong?”

“I thought Natasha was also with you.” Was she dead?

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, but he said, “Yeah, she walked away as soon as she heard me contacting you.” Steve looked in Sam’s direction, “She knows how to give people some space.”

Bucky nodded, “I just wanted to know if she were alive.”

“We’re doing fine,” Steve said, suddenly looking tired again, “We miss you.” Bucky felt empty without them, too, even as he wondered if they would find his choices commendable. He had yet to even join the fire at night.


	7. The Fire at Night

The next night as he listened to the people around the fire pit, he wanted to look out his door, even though it sounded like there were hordes of people, maybe even as many as five, at the fire pit. He peeked out, and there were indeed hordes: Shuri, Eshe, and three others. He was about to slink back to safety and stop bending over to peek through the door when he heard Shuri.

“Would you like to join us?”

What was the right way to talk to five people at once? He didn’t know any of the songs nor the dances they might do, and what happened when they spoke in Wakandan? He only knew a few words. They made room for him, and thankfully Shuri patted the room that had suddenly become available beside her. It almost looked like Eshe wanted to move beside Shuri so he would be surrounded by people he knew, but the food Eshe was cooking in the fire suddenly started smoking and she had to attend to it. Unfortunately, that meant he could sit by Shuri but had a stranger on his other side.

“We’re making bacon bananas,” Shuri said. The stranger was one of the men with Eshe, whom he had never spoken to. How did one talk to two people at once again? Why did it have to be so hard?

The man handed him a wooden spit, a bag of cut up bananas, and a bag of bacon. “Thanks,” Bucky said, “Uh, _enkosi_.” The man might not even know English.

The man smiled, “You’re welcome.”

Bucky realized he was indeed going to have to talk to a third person. “I’m Bucky,” He wished he could go back inside and hide.

The man nodded, “I know.” Shuri hissed at him, and he smiled, “I’m Tamrat, Eshe’s son.”

“This is how we’re doing it,” Shuri told Bucky, showing him her method for wrapping the bacon around the banana before putting it on a spit and sticking it near the fire. Bucky followed suit, thankful to be interacting with Shuri. He had to adapt her methods because he only had the one hand.

But Tamrat was very friendly. “I’m on vacation, so I thought I’d visit my mother. Normally, I’m at school. They have universities in America, right?”

“Yes,” Bucky said. Of course they had universities in America.

“What was your degree in?”

“Um, I didn’t go,” Bucky said. He didn’t remember everything yet, but he got the feeling he had dropped out of high school to get a job so they could keep their home, but he didn’t know why that would have happened, except that he also felt abandoned when he thought about it. Was it a depressing time? A Great Depression? He didn’t remember. “But I was a good student.” He was pretty sure of that, but he also wanted the focus off him, “Do you have a major?” That was something one asked, right?

“Are you watching your bacon bananas?” Shuri asked. Bucky suddenly looked at his to find it close to burning, as was Tamrat’s. Bucky steeled himself for punishment.

Tamrat laughed at the state of their bacon bananas and jerked it away from the fire, “I’m studying Environmental Design.” Bucky looked at him blankly. “How to design indoor and outdoor space to be ecological and yet harmonious with its surroundings. The physics classes are fascinating, and I also like the drawing classes.”

“Drawing,” Bucky said. Finally, something he knew. “Steve went to art school for a year, and he loves drawing.” He sighed, “Of course, you mean architectural drawing and not fine arts.” He was an idiot. He also hadn’t explained who Steve was. He hunched so that he sat a little smaller, feeling too much of something inside himself to explain.

But Tamrat smiled, “That sounds great. Do you draw?” He started eating his banana, and Bucky took that as a command to do the same.

“I did with Steve, he was a friend,” Bucky said, eyes dropping down. He felt eyes on him and felt he needed to keep talking, “But I didn’t go to art school, I was working by then.”

“Working is good. What did you do?”

“By art school I think I was a supervisor at the docks.” But instead of docks, he pictured the Winter Soldier leading people in a murderous attack and something blowing up. He frowned at his bacon banana. The assassins had fuzzy faces but were holding Colt M4A1s.

“Did you like it?”

“Brooklyn was home,” Bucky said quietly.

“Home is always nice. You want another? Let’s watch our bananas more closely this time,” Tamrat said. Good, then they wouldn’t have to talk.

They were more successful this time, and Bucky felt a sense of accomplishment. It was hard to concentrate on the banana because he was sitting with a group of five people, with one on either side, and either might suddenly burst into talking at any time. 

Bucky felt they talked a little longer than they normally did, and he worried about when they would start singing. The singing was pleasing, but since he was now part of the group, what was he supposed to do, sing with them? In a silent moment, one started singing, and the others followed. Shuri caught his eye and mimed tapping his leg to the beat. That made him feel he was doing his part in the group. Others clapped too, and even if everyone else sang, some sang only at the refrain, and some sang parts, so he didn’t stand out (except of course for being the only pasty-faced, one-armed ex-assassin in the group).

He slept in the next day, completely drained; he never wanted to leave the hut - ever. But he should get up. Eshe came in with food. “Take a day off, you had a big day yesterday.” He should disagree with her, but she left and he felt relieved. 

He tried to get up later, but even writing to Steve seemed too much. As he drifted off again, he thought he heard his kimoyo bead chime with Steve’s sound, but he dreamt of reaching out to Steve and screaming as he fell into the icy abyss.

When he got up, something sweet was pouring from the ceiling, and he calmed down. He tried to write in his notebooks, but nothing came. He looked at his food under the bed. He tried the yoga poses Natasha had shown him while they were still all together in the capital. As he tried them, he wondered who the red-head was; looking at her made him think of something, but he didn’t know what. 

But then that night, he couldn’t fall asleep. Again. He had avoided the sleeping drugs as much as possible because…. because. But he was tired of the night dragging on, so he drank the medicine. He lay down and studied the underside of the hut. When he couldn’t sleep, he was supposed to count the number of straws in the ceiling, so he started counting, and he got to nine.


	8. Walking to the Lake

The next day he was determined to leave the hut, to talk to people, and not to spend the next day hiding in the hut. He was a human being, and he should act like one. He did his perimeter check, ate with Shuri, and cut wood. Instead of staring at the water, which he would have rather done, he sought out Shuri, determined to get the horrid duty over with. But he couldn’t find her.

He marched towards the lake and watched the ripples bunch and bend when they got to the shallow end. He heard the children behind him and waited until they were quite close. He suddenly turned around, and they shouted, “Ingcuka,” and ran away giggling.

Now Shuri was strolling by the lake along the natural line of drift, easy pickings for a sniper who knew how people normally walked around lakes. He waked towards her so he could get the talking over with for the day. “What’s Inguka?” he asked.

“Ingcuka,” Shuri said, putting a click in the middle of the word.

“Oh,” Bucky said, and Shuri smiled. He knew Wakandan had clicks, and it was only a matter of time before he hit a word that had a click.

“They are calling you the White Wolf.”

“Why?”

“You are the first white person they’ve seen.”

“And they picked a wolf?”

“It suits you.”

Bucky had to agree. Then he stared at her, sure something was different. “You’ve changed your hair.”

Shuri smiled, “Do you like it?” Of course he did. She studied him, “You could do things with your hair.” 

“I only have one hand.”

“There’s a Third Hand on the wall of your hut,” Shuri said, “Or someone could help you.”

“A what?”

“A device that could function as a second hand for you, didn’t I show that to you?”

“Maybe, my memory is not what it was.”

“Let me show you again.”

They walked to his hut, and Shuri showed him. He could activate it with his foot and then use it to hold things and make it let go with a downward tug. She positioned a mirror so he could even do his hair, and she showed him how to do a half-bun. 

He paused, “That’s a girl’s hair-do.”

Shuri frowned, “I thought I read that in America there were man-buns.”

“No man would be caught dead wearing a girl’s hair-do.”

She sighed and appeared to count to ten, “I know you were born in 1917, so I’m going to give you one chance to rephrase that.”

Bucky was stunned and couldn’t think of what was wrong. Shuri softened at his panic, “You’re fine.”

“No, I want to understand.” He’d better or he’d do whatever it was again.

Shuri beamed, “You do?” Through his confusion, he saw he’d said the right thing. “Okay, just because something is associated with girls, does that make it less desirable?”  
He felt like it was a trick question, and Shuri started to frown. “No, of course not,” he said quickly. She nodded, and he paused, “Why is it of course not?”

“Because girls and boys are equals.” 

“I’ve always liked girls,” Bucky said, pausing because he hadn’t realized that were true.

“It has nothing to do with liking, it’s about treating them as equals,” Shuri said.

Bucky studied the 16-year-old girl who was probably the smartest person on the planet. “And not an anomaly?”

Shuri’s eyebrows raised, but she nodded, “Right.”

“Huh,” Bucky said, thinking. “Do guys here really put their hair in a half-bun?”

“Sure,” Shuri said. “They just call them man-buns in America, although I don’t know why they don’t just call them buns.”

“A man-bun, okay, I can get used to that.” Bucky thought some more, “Can you show me that man-bun one more time?” Bucky asked. Shuri smiled and agreed, and then he did it by himself.

He studied himself. “What am I supposed to be doing?” Shuri looked at him blankly. “I’m here to find myself or something like that, but all I do is walk around a lake and cut wood.” And write in the notebooks Steve had given him, but that was private and he didn’t say it out loud.

Shuri cocked her head slightly. “What do you think it means to find yourself?” 

He drew a blank. When he felt the silence was oppressive, he said, “I have no idea.” She waited some more. “Talk to people.” That’s right, that was what a human being did. 

Shuri nodded and looked around, “There are a few people here.” The one he wanted to talk to was Steve, but now the blond-haired man was mad at him. 

“Okay,” Bucky said, but now that Bucky had decided to do a lot of talking to people, he felt uncomfortable. “Maybe later.” Shuri smiled sadly and left. He’d begin his talking to people….. tomorrow. He’d feel like talking tomorrow, he was sure of it.

So he hid in his hut. What was he doing? He’d been a world-class assassin. Why could he not do anything anymore? How could he repair himself with all the evil he knew was inside him? He hastily put that thought away. Why were decisions so terrifying, anyway? Sure the handlers gave him his mission, but he could make decisions within the mission and even command underlings to hand him guns. Was he truly so far gone that the only decisions he could make were how to best kill people? No, it couldn’t be, and he pushed that thought down. He could make decisions once he knew the parameters. His new mission was to become human. So how did one accomplish the mission of becoming human? He was good at accomplishing missions, he just needed a course of action. To become human, he was required to talk to people, but conversation seemed to have many unknown protocols. There also appeared to be a requirement to make several decisions throughout the day among a myriad of options like different clothes and food.

Wait, Steve had once said in the Wakandan hospital, “The Internet, so helpful.” The kimoyo beads! He put them on and searched for Shuri. When he saw her working on something, he marched up, wondering what was the required distance before one could exchange information with someone. 

Shuri looked up, and he took that as a sign he could commence conversation. “Do you have the Internet on a kimoyo bead?”

Shuri smiled, “Yes.” She looked down at his wrist and saw he was wearing the beads. “Here.” She showed him how. “What do you want it for?”

“I need to discover how to become human,” Bucky told her. For some reason, she didn’t seem as pleased as he was.

“Do you want to do more?” Shuri asked. Bucky nodded. “I’d like to invite someone from the village to come see you. He likes to talk, and he’s already met you, so you won’t feel like you’re meeting someone new.” Bucky nodded, although he didn’t know who this might be. “He’s one of your doctors.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, trying to remember them all. He’d seen them the most when he’d just come out of cryofreeze after Shuri had deprogrammed him. “Yes, that would be, wait, he’s from the village?” He’d been deprogrammed in the capital.

Shuri nodded, “We always knew that you would come to Namayeza because we felt you’d need some time to recuperate away from the cares of a city.”

“But he’s a doctor.”

Shuri was still nodding, “They can be in villages, too.”

“You plan ahead.” Shuri still needed something from him, so he nodded.

“Good,” Shuri said, smiling. Well, at least he knew he’d answered correctly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I actually think “Ingcuka” means “wolf,” not “white wolf,” but this is what they’re saying in the movie, and it is translated in the movie as “white wolf.”
> 
> Bucky is feeling some period-appropriate prejudice. We are all a product of our times and have our blindspots. It doesn’t excuse it, it just explains it, and he’s getting over it.


	9. Waking to Three Faces

The next morning brought three pairs of eyes staring at him, except this time, they were hovering inches from his face. He stared back for a minute, and they ran away. Bucky picked up the Wakandan clothes on the top of the pile and put his hair in a man-bun to please Shuri.

The children ran to Shuri. “Are you playing around with that man?” Shuri asked in English.

“No,” they sounded very innocent. They always did.

“You’re teasing him again.” Shuri told them. He came out and saw them clustered around her, utterly comfortable with other people. “Don’t wake him. He must his rest,” she told them.

“No, I’m not,” one of the boys said.

“Thabo, you’re doing that,” Shuri said.

“He’s doing it, he’s lying,” one said, one who had been doing the same thing.

“No, he’s resting,” Thabo said.

Shuri saw that he’d come out, “Go, go!” she told them.

They ran to the cook’s hut, crying, “Ingcuka! Ingcuka!”

Shuri was waiting for him, so he walked up to her by the lake. “Good morning, Sgt. Barnes,” she said.

“Bucky,” he said. Sgt. Barnes was a soldier who died in 1945, and sergeant was not a name.

“How are you feeling?”

He had just woken up to having three children hover over him, and he hadn’t killed them. “Good,” he said, he almost meant it. Maybe this village thing was going to work after all. “Thank you.”

She touched his arm, “Come,” she said, walking away, “Much more for you to learn.”

Learn? Great. Maybe she would show him something on the Internet that would give him the commands needed to become a human being. 

“You know you’re safe here, yes?” Shuri asked. Bucky nodded, knowing that was the expected answer.

Shuri nodded to herself, and they walked to her hut. “I want to show you some safety features.” Her hut looked much like his, except there was some equipment, and there was also a hatch to somewhere, but he didn’t ask about that. She pointed to some technology he’d never seen in his life. “See this? No one can come in here except us.”

“And the villagers?”

“Of yes, besides them.”

“And the chickens, the goats, the fish in the lake….”

Shuri frowned at him, “No one who means you any harm.”

“I don’t know, I saw one of the birds eyeing me, and he looked pretty mean.”

Shuri lit up, “Is that a joke?” Bucky shrugged, surprised. “That’s very funny,” she said, but she didn’t laugh. She led them out of the hut and started walking back toward the lake. There was a possible hostile sitting by the lake under a shady tree. The man’s posture was relaxed, and he was unarmed, but he had a basket beside him. What was in it? Bombs? If the man made a move, Bucky would shield Shuri with his body.

They walked up to him, but the man made no move except to look up at them and smile, “Beautiful lake.” He didn’t seem surprised to see a white man in his village. He pointed to the basket but didn’t lunge at it. “Want one?”

“Dr, Mboya,” Shuri said, “What did you bring us?” she sat down beside him, excited, so Bucky warily followed suit. The basket turned out to have three cans in ice. 

“Primus,” Dr. Mboya said, then looked at Bucky and said, “It’s a beer, a pale lager. Do you like beer?”

An image came to mind, “Schaefer beer back home was a pale lager,” Bucky said. He had drunk beers with Steve. Draft beer, of course, because that was the best, but canned beer was better than bottled.

“Sounds like you know your beers,” Dr. Mboya said, passing out the beers. “I also like Tusker beer, which is also a pale lager. Do you prefer pale or dark?”

The metal can was so light Bucky hadn’t focused on the stranger. “What?” he asked, before realizing he had also been listening, “Pale beer is good,” Bucky said, before admitting, “I don’t remember if I’ve had dark.” All the beer he could think of was pale. He paused, “Maybe in Germany, or a bar somewhere, in the war.”

“We’ll have to remedy that,” Dr. Mboya said. Should Bucky recognize the man? The stranger seemed to realize this. “I’m the one who prescribes the medicines you take.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. What was the proper response? “Thank you,” Bucky said, but he was already facing his next hurdle. How did one open this new style of can? He didn’t see a church key or any other metal strip to punch a whole in the top. It had a loop of metal attached to the top for some unknown reason.

“Here,” Shuri said, taking his can, and the can opened with a whoosh. Bucky stared at the top, which now had a good-sized hole.

“Thank you,” he said. He took a sip, and he nodded, “It’s good.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Dr. Mboya looked back at the lake, “I love looking at the lake.”

“It’s peaceful,” Bucky said, staring at it and falling into a reverie. So they drank their beers and stared at the lake. Dr. Mboya and Shuri talked lightly, and Bucky simply listened. 

“Well, I suppose I have to go back,” Dr. Mboya said, “My wife is cooking tonight.”

“Say hello to her for me,” Shuri said.

“Of course,” Dr. Mboya said.

“Do you know her?” Bucky asked.

Shuri nodded. Of course she did, but Shuri said, “She’s a prosthetist and miniaturization scientist at the Design Group.” Of course she was. Bucky just concentrated on not being surprised a married woman was working in a highly technical field. But why not? This was Wakanda, and he owed his life to Shuri, the 16-year-old girl who headed the Design Group.


	10. How to Become Human in Six Easy Steps

When he was alone, he followed Shuri’s directions and searched the Internet, or Wakanda Net, or whatever, for how one became human. He was about to give up the search, though, when he found the very site he was looking for: a checklist of how to become human.

He read it. “Meet basic human needs.” Well, that was a little vague, but there were helpful sub-steps. “Breathe oxygen.” He took a breath. Check.

“Eat edible foods and drink water.” The website mentioned needing adequate carbohydrates, proteins, fats, vitamins, and minerals. He blanched. Did he get an adequate balance? He went out of his hut and searched for Shuri. “Do we receive the proper balance of proteins, vitamins….” he forgot the rest and looked down at the kimoyo bead, “carbohydrates and…”

“Hello to you too,” Shuri told him, smiling. He sighed, for he’d forgotten to begin with a greeting; social interaction was tough. He’d probably forgotten several times and they hadn’t pointed it out until now.

“Hello,” he said. He paused How did he make up for not beginning with a greeting? Shaking hands seemed to be important in Wakanda, unless you were royalty.

“What are you reading?” Shuri asked.

“I’ve found how to become human.”

“Oh, okay,” Shuri said.

“And it says I need to eat a proper balance of things.” He didn’t know why one needed all these things, but he had heard Steve’s mother, a nurse, telling his ma about such things, and he knew orange juice was good for vitamins.

“Yes, Eshe makes sure you have a proper balance.” For some reason, it looked like Shuri was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Good.”

“Is that all?” Shuri asked.

Bucky looked down. The next section was on sleep, and he frowned, for it suggested 7 - 8 hours a night; he didn’t have a watch but he might get half that. Sleep was apparently needed for physical and mental performance, but he’d managed this far without it. “It says I need to sleep 7-8 hours a night.”

“You can work up to it,” Shuri told him. “Good sleep does make me feel better in the morning.”

Bucky sighed. “My memory isn’t great, but I don’t think I’ve slept well since Before.”

Shuri nodded, “Sometimes having a sleep schedule helps, or making sleep rituals.” She shrugged, “You see your bed as a safe place, right?”

He looked at her. What? He decided to skip that point. He looked down again at the bead and read, “Maintain homeostasis.” He read more. “They just mean keeping the environment from killing the body, wearing clothes and repairing wounds.” He currently had clothes and was not wounded, so he was doing all right.

He tensed as he read the second step, and he saw she was worried about his reaction. “It says I need to secure safety and avoid danger.” His heart beat faster.

“The Dora Milaje guard you night and day,” Shuri said with a patient look on her face.

“It also says to get or build a home.”

Shuri nodded, “You have a hut.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as you need it.”

He frowned again and read, “Pursue a living.” He was never going to become a human being!

“All you need to do right now is heal, that is your job now,” Shuri told him. 

“No, people who don’t work shouldn’t eat,” Bucky said, remembering something from his childhood. “How am I going to pay for all of this?”

“We’ve taken care of it,” Shuri said, and Bucky frowned at her. “You’re just like Captain Rogers! If it makes you feel better, Captain Rogers is working for the Wakandan government as a war dog.”

“I can’t live off what he does,” Bucky said.

“Captain Rogers would disagree, what else is on your list?”

Bucky looked down. “Step 3. Form human relationships.” His shoulders slumped. For her part, Shuri tried not to smirk. Maybe he could skip that one and go on to the next. “Step 4. Cultivate your self-esteem.” Skip. “Step 5….”

“Wait,” Shuri said. “That might be something to think about.” Bucky frowned. Shuri nodded toward the bead, “How does it suggest one build self-esteem?”

Bucky sighed but obeyed the command and read, “Discover your character strengths, remind yourself of your strengths, forgive yoursel…” Skip. “Step 5.” He read it silently and threw up his hand, giving up. He would never be a human being. Ever.

“What’s it say?” Shuri asked.

Bucky showed her instead of saying it. Shuri read it out loud, “Validate your existence.” 

Skip, skip, skip.

Shuri kept on reading, “Once humans are secure and have healthy relationships and good self-esteem, they may wonder why they are here.” She glanced at Bucky before reading, “There’s no right way, but you can develop your own philosophy, follow a religion, write, draw, play music, or dance. You can experience nature and care for it.” She paused, “You’re doing that here.” She continued to read, “Try to make your mark on the world.”

“I think I’ve already done that,” Bucky said. “And the world wishes I hadn’t.”

“You can always make another one,” Shuri said. She read again, quietly, “Step 6. Learn how to love others and be loved.”

“I thought this would help,” Bucky said. He was such a failure.

Shuri nodded, “It’s not a bad list. Dr. Mboya might be able to help.”

“I can't do all this.”

“You can try,” Shuri said. He doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a real webpage: “How to be Human.” https://www.wikihow.com/Be-Human


	11. Taking Care of Goats

Bucky walked to the lake; he would never become a human being and would always be broken. He went to the part of the lake with the deepest waves so he could watch them smack against the little promontory. 

But his thoughts followed him there, so he found Shuri talking with the children, who were caring for the brown-and-white goats. As she didn’t notice him, he decided to walk up quietly to see what they really did, but the children saw him and cried, “Ingcuka!”

Shuri turned around, “Sgt. Barnes, you startled me!”

“Bucky,” he told her before turning to the children. “ _Molo_ ,” Bucky said, but the children laughed, and Bucky sighed, “It’s _molweni_.” He was speaking to a group, not an individual. HYDRA didn’t tolerate failures, and he waited, but the children were still grinning at him. He hadn’t realized they were the kind to enjoy someone’s pain.

“ _Molo_ ,” each child said in a tone reminding him he’d failed. 

“Don’t tease him,” Shuri said, but they were unrepentant. Tease? Was that all?

He decided to change the subject before anything else happened, “What are you doing?” 

“We’re taking care of your goats,” the girl, Zani, said.

No one had told him that he was failing to fulfill a mission! Shuri said, “These are your goats if you want to take care of them.” She eyed the children to remind them that was what they were supposed to say.

“You mentioned before there would be goats,” Bucky said. But that had been in the capital before he’d come here, and now he realized he was being asked to take care of … goats. “How do you take care of goats?” The children laughed at such a question, and Shuri shushed them.

“They don’t have goats in America,” Shuri told them, and Bucky didn’t correct her. “And there are some people in the cities who wouldn’t know, either.” Bucky felt a little better.

“That’s silly,” said one of the boys, either Thabo or Lencho.

“Really? I couldn’t guess you’d say that,” Bucky said, and they laughed at that, too. He was surprised at himself for saying such a thing, but for some reason it felt comfortable, like he’d been snarky a lot at some previous time.

Shuri nodded, “You clean their water and sweep the feeders. You can lead them out of their pens in the morning and take them to their pastures and back, or you can ask the children to do it before and after school.”

“For a fee,” the other boy said.

“Eh!” Shuri said, “I’m paying you!” 

“How much is this costing?” Bucky asked. There was a cook and her family, and now these children were being paid.

“Not yet you haven’t,” the boy told her.

Shuri shook her head, “I decided to employ them in something useful because they keep bothering you.”

Bucky smiled, “They don’t bother me.” 

“Yay!” the children said, dancing around with the energy only children had.

“This isn’t costing much at all; everyone here lives in the village,” Shuri said, “And these huts are set aside for visitors who need a bit of nature.”

Bucky nodded; he could do this. Zani took Bucky’s hand “We have to clean the water in their new pastures before we move them there.” They got to the waterer in the pasture they would lead the goats to this day, and Zani told Thabo, “Go on, clean it.”

“You clean it!” he told her.

Bucky smiled, suddenly remembering his sisters for some reason. Lencho started cleaning the water while Thabo made faces at his sister. “Come on,” Lencho told the arguing brother and sister duo, so the others helped.

They walked back to where the goats were penned. “You can help us get the goats,” Thabo told Bucky, who nodded. “Watch out,” Thabo said. The goats that had been content to stay in the enclosure had actually been carefully biding their time, and they now spent all their energies trying to avoid the humans herding them in the general direction of the pasture. Bucky felt bad for them, but he also wanted to help the children. This was his job. If they told him to kill the goats, would he have the strength to refuse? “We need to start with the herd queen,” they said, focusing on one regal doe, and the other goats followed her lead. Once they got to the pasture, which also had a sturdy fence, the goats bounded in. Some went to the recently cleaned water, and some went to the highest ridge, which had a little hut just for them, and they jumped on the roof like they had in the pen. Others jumped on tires or went bounding up the outside stairs of a small tower. “There, see?” Thabo told the goats, who did not notice their captivity.  
“They like heights,” Bucky said, and the children nodded.

They walked back to the pen, swept out the old feeding troughs and their climbing structure and other toys, and generally cleaned up after the goats. There was an extensive overhang where the goats could go if they wanted shade. “They hate rain,” Thabo said, seeing Bucky study it.

“There’s a hole right there,” Bucky said, pointing to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Thabo said, looking hopefully at Bucky. 

Bucky shook his head, but it made him feel useful, “What do I fix it with?” They gave him some thatch. He threw it onto the overhang so he could use his one arm to climb up. But once he was up, there was a new problem. “Hm,” Bucky said, looking at them. They covered their faces with their hands, unable to believe someone didn’t know how to thatch, and talked him through the process from the comfort and safety of the ground.

He had just finished and was admiring his work on the roof when he heard Shuri, “Are you serious? You have him on the roof. Thabo, why didn’t you do it?”

“He wanted to,” Thabo said, sounding very innocent.

Shuri shook her head, “Go on with you, it’s time for lunch.” 

But now he had a real relationship with the children, and they sat around watching him while he ate lunch. “Don’t stare,” Shuri said, slapping their hands and giving them food, which they happily ate. For some reason, he didn’t feel tense around them.

After lunch, the children ran off but stayed near the cook’s hut, where they played catch. Bucky lingered companionably with Shuri over lunch, but he wondered what they should talk about. The thoughts were interrupted by being hit in the butt with a ball. 

“Sorry,” the children chorused. They always sounded sincere. Bucky threw them the ball as Shuri sighed and shook her head. Bucky was about to leave when the ball hit him again, this time in the back. “Sorry,” the children chorused. They never managed to hit him hard, more like a gentle nudge. He threw the ball back.

“I apologize for the children,” Shuri said, “Shall we leave?”

“I think I need to talk to them,” Bucky said, and Shuri nodded.

Bucky came over, wondering what the heck he should say, and Zani carefully threw the ball to him. He caught it between his one hand and his body and then threw it back to her. She threw it to her brother, and Bucky was about to walk away, still not knowing what to say, but the boy quickly and carefully threw it to Bucky. He never did talk with them, but he stayed awhile playing with them.

Shuri watched them play with a smile before she adopted a commanding tone, “Okay, that’s enough for now.” They ran off, and he went into his hut to hide and recover, but even as he did so, he spent the time remembering playing catch and other games as a child.

He watched the glassy lake when the children sought him out, “You have to help us get the goats back.” Bucky nodded. “Don’t let Trouble get the better of you this time,” they told him. They got the goats, and he got one goat in mid jump. “He got Jumper!” the children cried. That was Bucky, Champion Goat Herder.

The next day, they took the goats to a different pasture. Shuri smiled when he came back from herding the goats. “You’re catching on quick.”

“I have good teachers,” Bucky said, “They laugh at me the moment I do something stupid.” 

“They enjoy having an adult help them,” Shuri said. “Have you considered what you are going to name them?”

He frowned, “I thought they already had names.”

“So unoriginal!” Shuri said, “Trouble, Jumper, everyone has goats named that.”

Bucky was troubled, “But it’s their names.”

Shuri shook her head, “Those aren’t names, they’re descriptions.”

Bucky didn’t like that; he’d been called the Soldier. “What makes a good goat name, then?”

“Something different,” Shuri said, “What’s a good name for the herd queen?”

Bucky pondered this, and the answer was out before he could stop it, “My mother.”

Shuri lit up, “Brilliant. What was your mother’s name?”

Bucky was a little embarrassed. Would his mother thank him for naming a goat after her? But Shuri looked so happy, he ducked his head and said, “Winnifred.”

“Then that’s her name,” Shuri said. “What about her daughters?”

“Are those the ones she’s always favoring?” Bucky asked, and Shuri nodded. Bucky thought some more. One of them seemed happy to see him. “The largest is Becca.” He suddenly realized Winnifred the goat had three daughters. “That’s perfect, Becca, Constance, and the smallest is Georgie.” Shuri nodded, excited.

Bucky thought some more, “There’s one who refuses to move.” He smiled, “He can be Sam.” Shuri frowned. “Which one is Steve?” Bucky would have to study the goats carefully.

“Actually, did you know they are all does?”

Bucky blinked at her, “What?”

“Does, they’re more docile and they stink less.”

“Docile as in Trouble and Jumper.”

“Well, yes, you should see the bucks. I believe one is Escape Artist.”

“Samantha the goat,” Bucky said, nodding to himself, “He’ll hate that.”


	12. Beer and Conversation

Bucky saw that there was a man sitting by the lake under a shady tree: Dr. Mboya, and he had another basket. Bucky sat down beside him, “I have Tusker beer this time,” Dr. Mboya said.

“Where’s Shuri?” Bucky asked.

“My wife said there was some problem at the lab, she told me all about it before she left this morning.” The doctor picked up a can, “Want a beer?” 

Bucky saw that Dr. Mboya only had two beers, so he’d known Shuri wouldn’t be coming. Dr. Mboya opened the can, and Bucky watched carefully so he could do it next time. Somehow, one pulled on the loop so that it opened up a pre-scored hole, yet the loop didn’t fall off. “It’s good,” Bucky said.

“You can dislike something if you want,” Dr. Mboya said.

“Not when I’m not the one paying.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Of course it does.”

Dr. Mboya nodded, “T’Challa feels he owes you a life debt for trying to kill you.”

“I think he paid me back a couple times already. Besides, I understand.”

They drank in silence and watched the glassy lake. Bucky liked watching it, but eventually he felt they might need to talk. “Shuri says you like to talk.” Maybe he’d do the talking.

Dr. Mboya laughed, “I like to listen even more.”

“We’re in trouble then,” Bucky said.

“We don’t have to talk,” Dr. Mboya said. So they fell to silence again and had almost finished their beers when the man stared at the lake and said, “Have you been having bad dreams lately?”

Bucky shrugged, for he always did, nothing new there. Someone was replacing his medicines, including the one that made him sleep at night and the soothing smells that calmed him during nightmares. “It’s better than it was,” Bucky said, and Dr. Mboya snorted. “Really, it’s quiet here. I don’t have to be on guard all the time.” He startled because there was a sudden movement, but it was a bird diving for fish.

“I can see that you’re very calm,” Dr. Mboya said drily. “I used to have bad dreams when I was studying to be a doctor.” Bucky looked at him, interested. “I would dream that I overslept and ran to class, only to find there was a test I hadn’t studied for.” They both smiled. “Another time, I dreamt that I had forgotten to finish a class, and when I woke, I reminded myself that I had completed it and had in fact gotten an A. But the dreams happened so often I opened my record on the kimoyo bead and studied my grade for that class. ‘You got an A,’ I told myself, ‘stop having that dream.’” 

“Did it work?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, it did,” Dr. Mboya said. “Too bad all dreams aren’t that easy to stop.” They finished their beers, and Bucky hoped the man would leave, for the conversation sounded like it would turn dangerous. “I’m going to walk around the lake, would you like to join me?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, suppressing a groan. They walked around the lake, and Dr. Mboya pointed out various things. Bucky noticed one of the Dora Milaje followed them, but so close it was obvious; no doubt it was to make Bucky feel better. Bucky asked about the plants and the birds, but he didn’t retain any of the information.

“You say it is quiet here,” Dr. Mboya said, “Do you believe it, or do you think that’s what people want to hear?”

“It is,” Bucky said. “Besides, there’s a guard following us.” Dr. Mboya looked around; startled. “You’d make a terrible assassin,” Bucky told him, instantly regretting it, but the doctor said nothing. Why had he said that? Why was it always lurking?

They walked a bit, with Bucky trying desperately to think of something to talk about. Had he asked about this type of plant yet? He didn’t remember. The doctor didn’t seem surprised Bucky had said such a thing, but no one seemed surprised at anything he did. It was like they all talked about it and decided together how to act. How much did the man know? Bucky studied the plant again, “Do you know why T’Challa wanted to kill me?” He dared a glance at the doctor, who nodded. “You know there was a lot before that, too?”

“I know a bit. I know HYDRA made you do things you didn’t want to do and that you feel guilty about it. I know you’re American and that you were born in 1917 but sure don’t look it.”

Bucky decided to be clearer. “You know I’m an assassin.”

The doctor shook his head, “You were forced to be an assassin, but that was not who you are.” The man didn’t seem surprised at all.

Bucky looked at the lake, “The children don’t know, do they?”

“No, they only know a crazy old white man showed up one day,” the doctor said, and Bucky glared at him, but the man seemed to mean it affectionately. “Hence the staring.”

“Do their parents know?” If he had children, he wouldn’t let them near someone like him.

Dr. Mboya nodded, starting to walk again, and Bucky looked alarmed, but the doctor spread his hands, “You do know Shuri is a genius at what she does? They trust her.”

“So I’m healed?” Bucky asked bleakly. Was this the best it would get? He was empty inside, and that was better than the darkness and blood. They stopped again.

“Of the trigger words,” Dr. Mboya said. “Now you have to decide how you’re going to deal with the memories and determine who you’re going to be.” Bucky went back to looking at the lake; he was doomed. “But such questions are too important to decide all at once; you have as long as you need here, and I believe you can do it, you are resilient that way.”

“What happens if I never change? If I never - be - anyone?”

“Then that’s what you are, and that’s good enough, but I think you will. Have you noticed changes already?” Dr. Mboya asked. Bucky looked at him. “You talk to me, don’t you?”

“Shuri says I already know you,” Bucky said, belatedly realizing that was admitting he didn’t remember. “What if I don’t remember enough for….” to make Steve forgive him, “…for others.”

“You mean Steve?” Dr. Mboya asked, and Bucky nodded. “He’s thrilled just to be able to talk to you again.” Really? Then why wasn’t he here? “What do you remember?” They started walking again, “After you woke up from cryofreeze.”

Bucky remembered a sterile room of gleaming glass and metal, with glowy bits, and Steve. “I remember Steve. I remember I thought it was 1945.” When he’d first woken up, his mind had gone straight to it being 1945. There was a red head, but something about her made him silent.

Dr. Mboya nodded, “And if that doesn’t shout out how you’d characterize what you did, nothing does. You picked a war over facing the present.” Bucky shrugged and looked out at the lake, and the other man stopped and did the same. “So you don’t have the triggers anymore, Shuri took care of that.”

“Now what do I do?” Bucky asked the lake. 

“I think herding goats and playing with children is a pretty good step in the right direction,” Dr. Mboya said. “And drinking beers by the lake with new friends.” They both smiled, although Bucky’s was dutiful and the doctor’s was warmer. “Then take time before deciding what happens next.” They walked back to the huts. “I could bring something else to drink tomorrow.”

Bucky’s smile was a little less dutiful, “Beer.”

“Which?”

“Either.”

“Do you have any ideas of how to become whatever it is you’d like to be?” the doctor asked casually.

Bucky frowned. He knew from the website how to become human, but he didn’t think he’d ever manage those steps. “No,” Bucky said. Dr. Mboya nodded and didn’t ask anymore questions.

Shuri came for dinner, “You won’t believe what happened at the lab.” Shuri’s mouth continued to move, but Bucky enjoyed watching how animated she got.

Eshe came over with dinner, stew and some kind of dough rolled up into balls with little indentations in them, and Bucky looked at it blankly. “This is fufu, it’s made of plantains.”

“It’s Wakandan fufu,” Shuri said, as if that made a difference. “The texture and taste are different.” Different from what, he didn’t know. 

Eshe was demonstrating in the air, “You tear off a bite, shape it into a ball, make an indentation, and scoop up the stew. I cut back the peppers on some of the stew.” 

Bucky was conflicted. Steve had said Bucky had liked spice, but really, food here had so much flavor it was nearly too much. It seemed to him that liking spice was bad, anyway, but how could it be bad? Did it stimulate something it shouldn’t? That didn’t sound right. Something half-remembered from Before?

When Eshe set down the food, she told Bucky, “This side has hot peppers, and this side is adapted but it still has some flavor.”

“I hope you didn’t do it all for me,” Bucky said.

“I like a challenge,” Eshe said, “I hope you like it.”

“I do,” Bucky said, before he’d eaten a bite.

Eshe smiled, “You might try it first.”

Bucky liked them both, but he wondered how often he would have to interact with people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wakandan food should be just better than anything else. I picture Bucky being used to bland food after being a POW and living on his own in Romania.


	13. Conversation Around the Fire

He came out for the fire pit at night again, already knowing that when they began singing, all he’d have to do was tap along. This time they had ice cream cones, put bits of chocolate, marsh-mellows, and peanut butter in them, stuck them in flat wire contraptions, and put them over the fire. They made a gooey mess and were the sweetest things Bucky had had in his life. “I think that was a year’s supply of sugar,” Bucky said after one bite, “I gather it’s not rationed here.”

Tamrat looked at him oddly, “Why would you ration sugar?” 

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it,” Shuri told him.

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky said. It was way too sweet, but he kept eating it, anyway.

Bucky decided to see what he could learn from Tamrat. “How does this place operate?” Tamrat looked at him blankly. “This village. A stranger shows up and no one is surprised.” How much did Tamrat know?

“Oh, it’s a resort, people come here all the time.”

Bucky thought of the little huts with thatched roofs and the muddy lake. “Oh.” He loved the lake, but it wasn’t resort-level nice, not that he could ever remember being in a resort. He pictured a crowded beach and a small Steve, but he couldn’t remember what made the beach so great that it was that crowded. Tamrat laughed at Bucky’s face. “It’s very nice,” Bucky said quickly. Had he failed? Bucky wanted the conversation to move on, “Shuri said healing was involved.”

Tamrat nodded, “Yeah, this is a place for people to get away from it all and think about things. Just a place to get in touch with nature again.” He paused, “And with yourself.”

Shuri overheard and nodded, “Nature is very important; we feel it has the ability to heal.”

“Do a lot of people come here? Bucky asked. Maybe he’d have to worry about more people coming.

“A few at a time, but you’re the only one currently. We aren’t as big as the one around the capital, you should see that one,” Tamrat said, rolling his eyes.

“There’s more like this?” Bucky asked. They probably hadn’t wanted him close to the capital.

Tamrat nodded, “You know, big cities, high stress. Technology can distance you from yourself, so you need to reconnect with nature.” Bucky nodded, hoping he didn’t look as blank as he felt. Tamrat had an evil grin and pitched his voice a little louder, “Shuri agrees with me.”

Shuri turned to them, “I just did.”

“Yeah, you aren’t cheating or anything, are you?” Tamrat asked, and Bucky almost gasped. Tamrat was accusing Shuri of disobeying!

Shuri looked outraged, “I am not cheating!” Bucky waited for her to order Tamrat’s execution, but Tamrat was oblivious to his danger. Should Bucky warn him? But he hadn’t been given that command. Too bad because Tamrat was nice to him.

“So what was that building project around your hut before you came here?” Tamrat asked smugly.

“Building the hut!”

“It was already built!” Tamrat nudged Bucky, “Don’t you wonder too?”

“I’m not getting involved.” He was neutral enough that hopefully he wouldn’t be collateral damage, and if by some remote chance this was teasing like the children did, it could pass as a joke.

“I was strengthening the surveillance,” Shuri said. “Sgt. Barnes approves.”

“Mother says she overheard you say this place is boring,” Tamrat said. Eshe looked up and hissed at him, embarrassed.

Shuri spread her arms, “I did not say that, what I said was this place was quiet.” The group accepted it, but Tamrat continue to look at Shuri in a way that announced he didn’t believe her. “That’s all,” Shuri told him. He continued to stare. “It’s just, I do love it here, but really, after a few days, isn’t staring at the waves in the lake just a little booooring? You’ve seen one wave, you’ve seen them all. They don’t even turn into different colors or do anything interesting.” Everyone in the group looked at her again.

“I like looking at waves,” Bucky murmured. It was peaceful.

“So do I,” Tamrat said, before asking Shuri, “So what’s in your hut, eh?” 

Shuri sighed, “I have a trap door where I can go into a room that’s from the 21st century. unlike the rest of my hut.” She looked at the group, “You have houses; you don’t have to live in a hut like me.”

“I live in a hut,” Bucky said.

“You tell everyone nature is healing,” Tamrat said, still wanting to egg her on.

“It is,” Shuri said. She looked at Tamrat, “You are a terrible, terrible person.” Bucky still wasn’t entirely sure that someone wasn’t going to end up executed.

Tamrat grinned at Shuri, “I want to invite you to an exhaustive, ten-hour study of the lake!” She got up and hit him. “There’s a wave in the middle of the lake you haven’t seen before. It’s very wave-like.” She hit him again.

Then Shuri realized a possible effect on Bucky, and she turned to him, “I’m only kidding. The lake is very beautiful.”

Bucky paused before making a split-second decision, “No, I may be offended.”

Shuri sighed, “I’m never living this down. What I meant was, that after you’ve spent a few days here, well, I enjoyed the rest, but I’m used to the capital or Bashenga. I mean, it’s very peaceful here and that has great value, but, well, I’m in that time in my life when I’m used to a little energy.” She moved to an imaginary dance rhythm. 

Bucky nodded; no one was getting executed. “I am definitely offended.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tamrat said, crossing his arms and looking at her sideways. “I am too.”

Shuri made an inarticulate sound, “You two are impossible.” She turned to the group, “Anyone want another ice cream cone? I want one, let’s make more. They are so yummy, yes they are.”

Bucky decided he kinda didn’t mind the sweetness.

“You know what creates the differences in Shuri’s oh-so-beloved waves?” Tamrat asked the group. “It’s really fascinating.”

“Shut up,” Shuri said.

“Wind is a major factor, of course. Have you ever thought of why waves are smaller on lakes than in oceans? Short gusts create ripples, and more constant winds create bigger waves, but waves are even bigger when the wind blows over more open water, which is why waves can be larger in the ocean than in our oh-so-interesting lake.” 

Shuri rolled her eyes, and Tamrat fell silent, and the conversation shifted.

A little later, he spoke up again, “The depth of the water affects wave strength too.” She growled at him.

And later, “Waves are energy transmitting through the water.”

And on through the night. Bucky decided he liked Tamrat a lot.


	14. Conversations with Steve

Steve now called Bucky regularly. He was only a few hours off, being in Lebanon and then Syria. Bucky wondered if Syria had ever gotten their independence from France, but he didn’t ask.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked him.

“All right.” 

“Are you eating right?” Steve sighed and shook his head, “I sound like my ma.” Did he? Bucky didn’t remember. He paused, wondering if he could ask Steve if his decisions were acceptable. He hadn’t ever been punished here, so he assumed he was all right. “What is it?” Steve asked.

Bucky wondered what he could say. He decided to be vague, “I make decisions every day.” Too many.

“Really? What decisions?” Did Steve sound concerned? “Are they pushing you?”

Bucky sighed and decided to admit it, “Yes, all the time. They don’t tell me if I should shower or when, or how to dress or when to eat. I have to decide when to talk to people and what to talk about and…, “ he looked up to see Steve’s blank face, “Steve, you’re looking surprised.”

“Um, no, you’re right, that’s a lot of decisions to make.”

“That’s not normal, is it?”

“Well, yeah, I can see that would be hard,” Steve didn’t really look like he did see.

“The worst of it is they make me decide all these things, but I never remember it bothering me before. Why is it so hard?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “Before we left, Shuri said you’d have a hard time with this.”

“So how do you make decisions?” Bucky asked. “Why did you decide to wear that today?”

Steve looked down to see what he was wearing and shrugged, “I just did.”

“That’s very helpful.”

“Maybe you’re over-thinking things. It doesn’t really matter what you wear.”

At the thought of making a decision like that, every cell in his brain exploded in pain…. but the pain didn’t actually materialize. He looked at Steve, “Really?” Steve nodded, but a little too uncertainly for Bucky’s taste. He thought about it. He woke up dressed as the Asset. In Romania, he wore whatever he could steal or buy, and he’d worn what was on top of the pile until someone made a comment. “I guess.” It was true in some sense it didn’t matter what he wore unless it were armor or protective items like goggles, but failure was still very unacceptable.

The next day, Bucky decided to make a wild decision - after looking to make sure no one was watching him - he pulled out the clothes in the exact middle of the pile and put them on. Then he boldly walked out into the daytime, his legs rubbery with fear. Shuri didn’t even notice. The next day, he picked up something entirely and completely at random. Finally, his nerves shot, he wore comforting black.

The next time Steve called, the blond man tried to look like nothing was wrong, but something had happened. When Steve put on that fake smile, Bucky dispensed with greetings, “What’s wrong? Is this the last time you can call?”

“No,” Steve said. “And nothing’s wrong.”

“Steve,” Bucky said.

Steve sighed, “Can’t get anything past you. Sam said I should let you call me instead of me call you.”

“But I like talking with you,” Bucky said.

“That doesn’t have to change, but you can call me. Sam thinks you need to make the decisions.” He coughed, “And Shuri already thought you were the one calling me.”

The blood receded from Bucky’s face. “You don’t want to talk to me anymore?”

“Bucky! Shuri and Sam want you to make the decision to call me.”

“But how do I know when I should call you?”

“Well, around now is generally a good time. If you call me and I can’t pick up, there’s no harm done, I just won’t pick up.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, “Do I have to do all the calling?” What an onerous chore!

“No, I can call you too, it just should be both of us calling.”

Bucky sighed, “Okay.” Steve nodded. “Can I call you tomorrow exactly at this time?”

“I would like that.”

“Okay, or is five minutes earlier better?”

“Whatever is fine.”

Bucky sighed because the call ended and he hadn’t asked if five minutes later would be even better. How was one to know?

So the next few times, Bucky called Steve. He didn’t like it as much because he was always afraid he was calling at the wrong time and Steve would die because of it. He was also worried when Steve didn’t pick up, so he called several times that day before breaking off, sure Steve was dead and no one had told him. Then he wouldn’t call Steve for a long time, afraid that if Steve didn’t pick up twice in a row, he really was dead. Steve would call, asking why Bucky hadn’t called him in awhile. Eventually, Steve did most of the calling, although Bucky would call when Steve prompted him, and Bucky would set up an exact time then and there. 

Still, sometimes Steve called and Bucky didn’t feel like talking but didn’t want Steve to leave, so Steve would play good music or a bit of a radio show. Bucky liked that so much Steve sent Shuri the music and the radio shows, and Shuri showed Bucky how to listen to them on his own. Bucky liked to do it at night after dinner. It seemed appropriate somehow. Was that when he had heard the shows Before? He didn’t know. Maybe it was because he didn’t like going out of the hut at night. Nights were freezing, well, cool, and he didn’t like freezing. He could go out for the fire because the fire kept things warm and the fire was right in front of his hut. (Well, it wasn’t his hut, but they did let him borrow it). He made it a new rule to listen to something after dinner if there wasn’t going to be a fire. His life was getting very busy, what with walking around the lake, interacting with the children, talking to adults, taking care of goats, and now something to do every night. It was almost exhausting.


	15. More Goats

Bucky continued favoring the herd queen first and her daughters. He was repaid by one of the daughters, Becca, pawing his leg. Bucky was filled with warmth inside and smiled down at her, “Hello, Becca.” He gave her a banana peel before realizing his error and gave Winnifred a banana peel before the queen got too miffed. It was important to give them supplements like banana peels or concentrate. The goats also liked young shoots and fleshy leaves, and he learned to look for signs of sickness. 

Shuri came by, and smiled approvingly as he was feeding the goats banana peels, before frowning, “Where are your helpers?”

“Playing hide and seek last I heard,” Bucky said. He pointed vaguely to some trees, and sounds of laughter drifted towards them.

Shuri shook her head, “Do they help you at all?”

“They do, they just got bored.”

“Hm,” Shuri said, disapproving.

“Can I do something for you?”

“No, just checking up. Have you thought more about their names?”

“Yes, that is Samantha, because she gets to her favorite spot and then won’t move. She has days where she’s friendly and days where she isn’t. I call her Sammie for short.” Sammie didn’t feel like walking over to get banana peels today, but she expected Bucky to come over and giver her some. Bucky was followed by one goat, who head butted him, and he turned around and pointed to her, “This is Stephanie because she seems to like me.” He paused, “I call her Stevie.” He smiled, “She’s a very sweet goat, but she is also stubborn and isn’t afraid to head butt me the second she’s unhappy, which happens a lot.” Stevie head butted him again, and he gave her a banana peel. “See? I’ve taken too long. She’s also stupid; she caught her head in a fence once.” That’s when she’d gotten her name.

Shuri noticed one ignoring them because she was staring out the fence, “Who’s that one?”

He frowned, “Tonya. She doesn’t like me, and I usually let the children handle her.”

Shuri frowned, so he pointed to another, “And that one’s Natasha. She looks like she will give you no trouble, and then she surprises you. She seems a different goat to different people.”

“Have you milked them yet?”

Bucky looked at her, “What?”

Shuri smiled, and took his hand, “Come on.”

“Is the princess of Wakanda showing me how to milk a goat?”

“No,” Shuri said, grabbing a pail, “The princess of Wakanda is going to inform you how you can milk the goat; I’ve never actually milked one. Wash your hand first.” When he was done, she said, “Start with Winnifred.” Bucky brought her by. “All right. Put your thumb and forefinger around her teat.”

“They are so getting different names.”

“And then squeeze. Don’t pull down on the teat, it could hurt her. See? You’re doing a great job.”

That’s when Winnifred kicked him.

Still, Bucky was getting good at cleaning up after goats and taking what the goats hadn’t eaten and spreading it out as bedding. He and the children were working out a pattern; the children tried to make Bucky do as much of the heavy lifting as possible, but he decided to let them do the running around since they appeared to have plenty of energy. At first, he was afraid someone would notice what he was doing and was almost afraid to admit it even to himself, but no one noticed, and he relaxed.

Spending time with the goats was pleasant; he could even say he liked it. When the children were at school, he would go to the pasture and sit with the goats, watching them climb their various structures and bounce on the giant tires. Sometimes they had reflective surfaces so they could look at themselves, or they might have gravel for a new walking experience. He felt bad for them because they had to stay in the enclosure, even if it didn’t look like they minded it. He knew his presence didn’t make up for it, but it was all he could do. So he sat as still as an assassin lining up a shot, and Stevie came over and looked him over before trotting away. 

He heard Shuri walking up and turned to her and got up. “Do you want to give them treats?” Shuri asked.

“Is that allowed?” Bucky asked. He liked giving the goats banana peels and other things but always told himself he was simply feeding them.

Shuri frowned, “Of course it is. I brought raisins and banana peels.” She came into the enclosure. “I’m glad you’re spending time with them,” Shuri said. “We can get them to come up and rub against you if you’d like.”

Bucky tensed because Becca had already come close to it before he knew if it were allowed, but then he smiled, “I’d like that.” Shuri smiled, so he’d said the right thing. 

The goats had smelled the treats and were milling about, wanting to get the treats but waiting for Winnifred. Shuri nodded, “Maybe we should put the treats out in front of us, and gradually put the treats closer to us until they’re eating out of your hand.”

So they did, setting them out on slightly raised platters so the goats wouldn’t consider the food trampled upon. Winnifred the herd queen found that very acceptable and scrambled for the treats, and soon everyone was. “Here now!” Shuri said, laughing, “There’s enough for everyone.”

Bucky smiled at the closest one, “That’s Stevie.” He threw an extra one to Stevie. Becca, Winnifred’s daughter, was right beside Stevie, and she got an extra treat, too.

The next day, there were two stools in the pasture, and when Shuri came by with the treats, they put the food closer and then sat down. “We can’t give them treats every day.” Bucky saw this time that Winnifred, Stevie and Becca preferred the peels, Natasha, and daughters Constance and Georgie the raisins, and Sammie seemed to like both. Only Tonya stood off in the distance.

“Would you like more goats?” Shuri asked. 

Bucky tried to reason out his answer. The fact that she brought it up suggested that she felt he needed more. If he worked with more goats, maybe that would help him pay debts off faster. “Sure.”

Shuri nodded, “We just got five more.”

The sound of approaching goats made them turn, and a man he always saw with Eshe came by with five goats. “Are they also does?” Bucky asked.

“Hello,” the man said, and Bucky realized he’d forgotten the greeting - again. They shook hands.

“Hello,” Bucky asked. 

“We haven’t been formally introduced before,” the man said, “I’m Eshe’s husband, Jafari.”

Bucky lit up, “I like her cooking.”

Jafari smiled, “We have something in common; so do I.”

Bucky wondered what he should do next. Jafari didn’t seem to be around the huts full-time. “Do you work?”

Jafari nodded, “I’m a guard in Bashenga.” Bucky nodded. Birnin Bashenga was the city five minutes away by flyer that Bucky couldn’t see from the village.

“So you want more goats?”

Bucky looked at them carefully. He’d chosen the names for the original goats after knowing how they responded to him.

He felt pressure behind him and turned his head to see which goat it was, Stevie, of course, but this was the first time Stevie was rubbing against him. He gave Stevie a banana peel. Winnifred and Becca came running for the same and rubbed against him, too. He looked up to see Natasha had come a little nearer but stayed away, torn between the desire for raisins and natural caution. He threw her some raisins but made sure they landed on raised platters.

When he turned around at the humans, he saw they were smiling at him but tried to temper their reactions when they saw him looking. “I think they like you,” Shuri said. Bucky shrugged.

“I’ll bet the others will come around, too,” Jafari said. “These goats have naturally sweet tempers.” Bucky had only been aware of their jumping abilities.

Shuri smiled, “Don’t get him started, or he will tell you everything about goats.”

“Really?” Bucky asked, interested.

Jafari smiled, “I can see you are a discerning man. We need to talk.” That was acceptable to Bucky.

Introducing new goats caused a flurry of headbutting as goats renegotiated their social status, but Winnifred stayed the queen.

Shuri didn’t come to the goats much after that, but Bucky spent lots of time watching the goats and giving them treats. Winnifred, Stevie, Becca, Constance, and Georgie would come running any time he came, and the children laughed when they first saw it. Even Natasha came for treats now, but she’d back off once she was finished. He also gave them carrots with their tops still on, whole bananas, apples (cut up so they weren’t a choking hazard), and other treats, too. He named the new goats Thomasina, Connie, Brooklyn, Dodger, and Ebbets. Jafari would come by, and they would talk about goats. Jafari also noted when they were getting a little fat and told Bucky to lay off on some of the treats.

Bucky started talking to the goats when no one was around, and his favorite goats would come near and listen patiently. He would tell them about what he thought he felt, and what he wrote in his journal, and they would help him make plans. His life was quite exhausting, but he was working things out with the goats and then talking with Steve and the Wakandans around the fire. Maybe he was getting the hang of things.


	16. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Period-appropriate prejudice against therapy.

Bucky was a little tired after herding the goats, for the dreams had been worse, but he saw Dr. Mboya sitting in the distance and knew he should meet with him if the doctor had come all this way. He also noticed he was seeing less of Shuri and felt it was a bit of a hand-off, but he could live by himself, as he had in Romania.

He walked over to the lake, “Did you drink all the beer?”

“I was thinking about it,” Dr. Mboya said.

“For a doctor, you spend a lot of time sitting at a lake,” Bucky said.

“I see patients before I come here.” Bucky sat down. “You look tired.”

“Bad night,” Bucky said. “I haven’t found a camera in the hut, but then your technology is way beyond me.”

“We don’t need to watch you, the bed tracks your vitals.”

“And here I thought it was just the comfiest rustic-looking bed I’d ever slept in.”

“I’ve just been glad you sleep in the bed,” Dr. Mboya said, before sighing, “I hope I didn’t just make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Were you afraid I’d sleep on the floor?” Bucky asked.

Dr. Mboya shrugged, “You slept on a mattress in Romania.”

Bucky nodded, “You know more about me than I realized.” He paused, “Beds are too…. I don’t know, undependable.”

“Comfortable?” Dr. Mboya suggested, “Human?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. He picked up a rock and skipped it across the surface of the lake.

“What did you do?” Dr. Mboya asked.

“I’m sorry, is it not allowed?” He’d broken a law and would be punished and kicked out. He’d wander as an outcast in the forest until he found the next country, whatever that was, and Steve would never find him. Of course, maybe Steve didn’t want to find him. Or maybe they’d execute him and…

“No, just, did you see how that rock skipped on the water?” Dr Mboya indicated the lake with his head.

“I won’t do it again,” Bucky said, shaking his head.

Dr. Mboya picked up a rock, “Show me.”

Bucky paused, “Not with that rock, it’s not flat enough and it’s too big for your hand.” Bucky picked one for him, and then gave him the finer points on skipping rocks. They scoured the place for proper rocks, with Dr. Mboya picking up a rock and Bucky shaking his head. They found a few and practiced a bit. Dr. Mboya’s sunk in the water; Bucky’s skipped on the lake. 

“This is definitely going to take practice,” Dr. Mboya said, “I’ll bring more stones next time.”

So the next time, he brought beers and good rocks. “I asked Thabo and Zani for help; I seemed to have missed a most important skill from childhood,” Dr. Mboya said, and Bucky smiled. “They challenge you to a contest, by the way, but they say you’re doomed.”

“They wish,” Bucky said. But they had to drink their beers first before the ice melted. “Are you going to tell me how I slept last night?” Bucky asked.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“Better. You know, sometimes you sound more like something besides a doctor,” Bucky said.

Dr. Mboya shrugged, “I like to listen, and fixing the body is more than popping pills.” They drank their beers. “I’m curious. though, when you think of psychiatrists, what do you think of?”

“People locked away, straight jackets,” Bucky said, “They…” He picked up a rock and skipped it across the lake, trying to get rid of the screaming inside as his brain was electrocuted.

Dr. Mboya nodded and tried to skip a rock, and it skipped once before sinking. “I did it!”

They skipped rocks for awhile before Dr. Mboya said, “You know we don’t do that here, that’s barbaric.”

“Barbaric,” Bucky repeated. “Huh.” He skipped a rock. “Only moral weaklings go see a psychiatrist.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You know, falling apart is your own fault. I saw guys in the field, they couldn’t handle it.”

“You mean the war?”

“Yeah, they couldn’t take it, and everyone called them a moral failure,” Bucky set down the rock he was going to skip. “I saw them start at nothing, jump all over you for no reason, they…. I…..” he wilted. “But I’m not like them. I don’t start at nothing, there’s always something there, even if it’s a bird, and I have a reason. You know I was minding my own business when the German Special Forces suddenly broke through the windows of the Romanian apartment. After that you have to be on the alert because it can happen again, and with all the killing I’ve done, sometimes you….” he stared at the ground. Dr. Mboya wasn’t saying anything, and Bucky tried to will himself to look up into the face of judgement but couldn’t. “I’ve said too much.” Bucky looked up, but he only saw compassion.

“You’ve been hurt.”

“I’ve hurt back.”

“And you have to find a way to live with that.”

“Why? I’ve killed people.”

“Was it really you doing it?”

“It was these hands,” Bucky said, “Hand. The other hand was blown off by the grieving son of two of my victims.”

“But whose brain?”

“I killed those people; I planned it.” That was the worst part of it.

“Were you angry at them?”

“No,” Bucky said, frowning fiercely, “I didn’t even know them.” Except for Howard; why did he have to kill Howard? The man had been a friend.

“Then it wasn’t you, was it?”

“I don’t think the family members much care; Tony Stark certainly doesn’t.”

“Will living in despair bring anyone back?” Dr. Mboya asked, and Bucky studied the lake. He wished the waves were a little more lively. “Then you might as well live by making amends.”

Bucky sighed deeply. “What kind of doctor are you, really?”

Dr. Mboya shrugged, “I’m just a village doctor.”

“You aren’t a medical doctor.”

“I am, but in Wakanda we don’t divide up the physical and mental.” Bucky moaned, and Dr. Mboya continued, “Don’t worry, we’re well trained and have double Ph.Ds if that’s the problem.” That made Bucky moan more.

Bucky sighed; he was talking to a psychiatrist; he was a moral failure. “It’s my fault.” He wanted to hide in the slime beneath his feet; he should have been stronger. Sam had tried to tell him he wasn’t a failure, but he knew he was.

“No, and you aren’t a moral weakling either. Look, think of me as just a medical doctor, or a life coach maybe. I do that, too, give people a little help when they need it, tips on how to breathe deeply and calm down.” He studied Bucky, “Shuri tells me you have some steps you’d like to take to become human, but you think it’s beyond you.”

Bucky stared at the lake; he was a fool. “It’s just pride.” They sat in silence for awhile. How could he explain his failure? “I spent years screaming inside my own body. I couldn’t make it do anything; I’d tell it not to pick up that gun, but it did anyway.” He looked down, “I kind of gave up, kind of tried to hide from watching. I’d pretend it wasn’t me, that it wasn’t happening…. Then this guy looked at me and called me ‘Bucky’ and I didn’t even know who he was talking about.” He looked out at the lake, “I guess I was stupid to think just sitting by a lake was going to make everything all right.”

“You aren’t stupid. You’ve done a pretty good job. You have people who care for you, and you help them out.” He paused, “You’re also safe here.”

“I will never be safe,” Bucky said softly, watching the lake, “There’s always a battle coming.”

“People who have gone through what you have often feel that, but there are ways of feeling safe.”

“Feeling safe isn’t the issue,” Bucky said. “Actually being safe is.”

Dr. Mboya nodded, “I know you tried to make yourself strong against HYDRA, and they still broke you,” Bucky looked away, but Mboya continued, “And you made yourself as safe as you could, and the German Special Forces still came, but this is Wakanda, and I think we should go over the safety features again.”

“Shuri already did; she told me no one could come through but didn’t count all the villagers and all the animals all around us.” Bucky still wouldn’t look at Mboya; he was watching the lake.

“Wakandan tech can tell the difference between a villager and German Special Forces. Very few outsiders have ever crossed our borders, and those that do don’t get very far. When outsiders finally developed aircraft, we simply hid our cities from their sight. We know the outside world is looking for you, but they will not find you here. They can send all the satellites they want, but when they scan over Wakanda they are blocked. They can…. What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean by satellites?” Bucky frowned, glancing up. “The moon?” But there was only one moon.

“A small, artificial satellite that orbits the Earth,” Dr. Mboya said. Bucky scanned the sky anxiously. “But we block it.”

“They’ll know you’re blocking them.”

Dr. Mboya smiled, “No they don’t. This is Wakanda. Maybe Shuri should give you a tour of her Design Group so you can see the kind of technology we have.”

“Why does Wakanda care? I’ve killed people. Hand me over and you don’t have to block anyone.”

“We block them anyway because we’ve hidden who we are.”

“But why help me? I know T’Challa felt he owed a life debt, but you put me in cryofreeze, took away the triggers, and now let me live here surrounded by all the food I could want, guarded by royal guards and all sorts of people hanging around.”

“Well, as this is part of Namayeza, when we hang around, we’re hanging around in our own village.”

“Village doctors with double PhDs, this doesn’t sound fishy to you?” Bucky asked.

“No, all doctors have at least double PhDs,” Mboya said, wondering what the problem was.

“Cryofreeze has to cost a lot, and so does the high-tech thing Shuri did to me.”

“You gave her the chance to crow about how smart she is,” Dr. Mboya said, “And talk about crowing, if you ever want an arm, you’ll make my wife very happy.” Bucky just looked at him. “I don’t know why T’Challa is so adamant about helping you, but I think you helped him realize something very important, and when T’Challa helps you, he honors the memory of his father and gets to prove Wakandan superiority. Also, by hosting you and the other enhanced people, he can study how Americans think.”

“I don’t have anything to pay him back with.”

“You have your life, live it well.”

Bucky sighed, “That’s a little hard, wouldn’t he rather have some chopped wood?” Dr. Mboya smiled. “So now I add your bill on top of a high-tech hospital bill?”

“You know we have free, universal health care? I wouldn’t even know what to charge you.”

“Huh.”

“Would you be willing to talk with me even if you know I’m a doctor?”

Bucky suddenly thought of Zemo as a false doctor, and his demeanor changed, “How do I know you’re a doctor?”

“Do you trust Shuri?”

Everyone could make mistakes, even her, but he knew he had to answer in the affirmative; it wouldn’t do to doubt a handler (not that she was a handler). Bucky made himself nod, but inside he didn’t feel it.

Mboya could tell, “Would you like a litany of my most recent publications? My current research is a meta-analysis on a holistic framework of factors that predict the onset of mental illness in an attempt to….”

Bucky’s eyes glazed over almost immediately.

Mboya spread his hands, “You know, we can simply talk and sit by the lake and drink beers.” 

Bucky decided he would trust Shuri and this man enough to sit and talk, but he would be careful. “Are beers normally part of one of these things?”

Dr. Mboya shrugged and spread his hands, “Hard life, isn’t it? I could bring tamarind drinks next time if that would make you feel better.”

“No, beers are fine,” Bucky said, “It’s just… don’t you lie down on a couch for these things?”

“Would that make you feel better?”

Bucky shook his head, “No.”

“Then we won’t. You’d get grass in your hair if you lay down right here, anyway, or more likely mud.” He squished the mud with his toe.

Bucky looked out at the lake; he never pictured a psychology session here. Bucky shook his head, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“We’ll just talk.”

“I have to find a way to pay you guys back,” Bucky said. Dr. Mboya opened his mouth to speak, and Bucky added, “Like chopped-wood pay you back.”


	17. The Village of Namayeza

When they finished moving the goats to their pasture, Zani came up and gave Bucky the longest hug yet. “What’s that for?” Bucky asked when she was finished.

“I’m fine,” she said, her tone off.

He was immediately overwhelmed. What was he supposed to do with a sad child? He looked for help at Thabo, but that child was just as depressed; that’s when Bucky started panicking. He’d ask Shuri, that’s what he’d do. But Lencho was right here, so he asked Lencho, “What’s wrong with them?” They might burst into tears and die on the spot.

“They miss their dad,” Lencho sighed. “I miss my dad.”

“What happened to them?” Bucky asked. He hadn’t killed them, had he? That would be awkward.

“Someone was mad at the king, and there was a war,” Lencho said.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. He wondered if it were the recent civil war after T’Challa had been feared dead and the royal family had been on the run. Okoye had tried to give Steve and the others a hasty war dog assignment away from Wakanda, but the Wakandans hadn’t finished building the cryofreeze unit, and Steve had refused to leave Bucky. Shuri’s Design Group had hustled them away to an extremely isolated village called Nri that was close to the cloud layer of a high mountain. Bucky had stayed inside the whole time because it really was cold there.

Bucky searched his memories for what to tell the children, “It’s hard when your father dies.” He wondered if today weren’t some meaningful anniversary for them.

“Is your father dead?” Lencho asked, and Bucky nodded. “Did you cry too?”

Bucky shook his head before remembering and nodding, “I did.” He thought some more, “It was hard because I became the man of the family.” Lencho blinked at his description, so Bucky explained, “My mother couldn’t get a job, so I had to.”

“Our moms work, but I still miss my dad.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He fought the urge to run away.

Zani took his hand as he quietly backed away, “Will you walk us back to the village?” She looked so hopeful and so sad, he couldn’t refuse.

“Sure,” Bucky sighing and forcing himself to stay where he was. They didn’t cry on the way, but they came close several times. Bucky focused on not crushing Zani’s hand. Lencho told Thabo and Zani about Bucky’s parents, and they talked about their memories. Bucky was exhausted by the time they made the short trek to the village proper. He saw stone ruins in the distance and did not have the energy to ask about them.

“Umama!” Thabo and Zani cried as they got close to their house, which was at the edge of the village.

A woman came out with her hair in plaits covered in some kind of orange red paste. “Oh,” she said, seeing a white man walk up. It was the first time anyone had been surprised to see him. She hugged the children.

“Molo,” Bucky said, “Um, _Igama lam_ …” and here came the hard word… “ _ngu_ Bucky.” It came out more “nagu” than “ngu,” so he tried a second time, “nnngu Bucky.”

The woman smiled sadly, “You speak it perfectly. My name is Sope [Shawpe].” She spoke with a slight accent.

“I think your English is just a tinge better.”

“Umama! Bucky helps us herd his goats and he plays with us.”

Their mother smiled, and it was warmer this time. “That’s sounds very nice.” She looked at Bucky, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” He really wanted to run away.

“No, unless it’s breaking some American rule, I insist. American, right, or are you Italian? Will you let me insist? I don’t want to offend.”

Bucky sighed, trapped, “I will let you insist.” He didn’t know what else to do.

They went inside her house. While the outside of the house looked rustic like the rest of the village, the inside looked anything but. In fact, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in the capital. It even had glowing schematics that somehow didn’t seem like they were physically there. 

“Chai, kahawa, cardamom tea, ginger beer, tamarind….” Sope said, unaware Bucky wasn’t listening and was simply staring at the holographic display and the rest of the house. The apartments Steve lived in the capital was nothing compared to this house where there were designs Bucky couldn’t begin to guess the history and meaning of.

Sope turned around, and Bucky felt her eyes on him and spun around as well. “Hm? Anything is fine.”

“Hmm,” Sope said, not sure what she should do with that, and Bucky felt overwhelmed. She looked at her children.

“He likes coffee,” they said, so she gave him kahawa, which was coffee with a spice he couldn’t place, but he was beginning to really like flavor.

“Is this your first time in the village?” Sope asked, and Bucky nodded. 

“You have a nice house,” Bucky said.

“Why thank you.”

He’d said the right thing. “Does every house glow like this?” Bucky asked. 

Sope smiled, “I bring my work home sometimes.” She took a sip, “We’ll have to take you around to see the elders,” Bucky already felt spent, but he nodded anyway. So after they drank, she and the children threw themselves into the task rather than remembering their loss. After practicing greetings in Wakandan and giving him pointers on how to make a good impression (greet the elders without waiting for them to greet you, don’t stare, keep more distance than you would with friends, and so on), they introduced him to the elders who sat in their robes under awnings, and who were very impressed at such a respectful young man. Bucky didn’t say anything about how old he actually was, nor did he show surprise that some of the elders were women. This was Wakanda, and he’d learned to expect such things here. 

Sope and the children also introduced him to Lencho’s family, which meant his mother, Winna.

“Winna,” Bucky said, after she introduced herself. He sounded wistful but couldn’t help it. Winna and Sope looked surprised but weren’t going to press.

The children had no such qualms. “What’s wrong with my mom’s name?” Lencho asked.

“Nothing,” Bucky said, sighing when he saw he was going to have to explain, “My mother’s name was Winifred. It just makes me think of her.”

Winna smiled, “I’m honored.”

“Umama,” Zani said, “Let’s see the Mboya’s.”

“All right,” Sope said, a little surprised, and Bucky was relieved that not everyone knew his business.

“Dr. Mboya talks with Bucky,” Zani said. Well, now they did.

But Sope didn’t suddenly look at Bucky like he was a moral failure. “He might not be home,” Sope said. “He’s a busy man.”

And indeed, he wasn’t home, and neither was his wife, but his daughter was. “Hi! My name is Zenzi, and this is my boyfriend, Elimu.” Bucky’s head was reeling.

“ _Molweni_ ,” Bucky said to the two, and the children clapped. To the others he explained, “I got it wrong last time.”

Sope sighed and asked her children, “You’re not giving him grief, are you?”

“No,” they said, in their very best innocent voices.

Sope knew her children and wasn’t convinced, “You don’t always get English right, do you? Would you have liked it if someone laughed at you then?”

“No,” they said, still sounding very innocent.

They all got invited in for more drinks. That house had glowing things on the inside, too. Eventually, they let Bucky go home, and he hid in his hut and didn’t come out the next day.


	18. Asking Steve a Question

It was a bad day and he stayed in the hut, wondering how he could sneak out and get some food without being seen. As soon as he’d decided that, Eshe came by with food and left with a smile before Bucky could think of what to say. “Thanks,” he told the empty air. He was such a loser. He knew Shuri would like him to shower, but he couldn’t face all that cold water. 

He was so emotionally wiped he didn’t respond to Steve’s call via the kimoyo, but then he felt horrible. How could he do that? Steve had condescended to call him out of his important day, and here Bucky was pretending he wasn’t near his beads. He touched the beads but was horrified to discover he’d waited to long. He stared at the beads; he had just lost touch with Steve forever. Steve would know of his disobedience and abandon him for all eternity. 

He jumped when the bead vibrated again and then pounced on it, sending it to the floor. He angled awkwardly under the bed to retrieve it. “Yes, Steve, hi,” Bucky begged.

“Bucky, you all right? You sound tense.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, settling down.

“I thought you’d picked up just as we lost contact.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. He’d have to find out how to call someone back on one of these things.

They talked of nothing, really. Steve told a bit about what he was doing, and Bucky just reveled in the fact that he hadn’t lost Steve. He was so enjoying the moment that he was slightly caught out when Steve asked him something. Had he been asked how his day was? What he was doing? He hoped so. 

“Me? Oh, nothing.” He looked at Steve and hoped it answered the blond man’s question.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Bucky sighed, “Had a bit of a tough day. Nothing major, but social interactions are a little draining.”

“They can be. You should take the rest of the day a little easy,” Steve said, shrugging, “Not that I’m telling you what to do because I told Shuri I wouldn’t.”

“I’m hiding in the hut right now,” Bucky admitted, ducking his head. “I’m a loser.”

Steve sighed, “Sometimes I would like to hide too.” Bucky looked shocked. “Really. Some days living in the future just gets to me, and spy work doesn’t help matters.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I keep going, and Sam and Natasha are really great. Sometimes you have to be easy on yourself.” He thought a moment, “I listen to music, you know, good music. I have a stash on my kimoyo.” Bucky nodded, music from Before. “When we used to live in the States, I had movies and foods that reminded me of my mother’s cooking. You remember the Sunday dinners we had together?” 

“Vaguely.”

“Your parents would invite me and my mother over, and I’m sure it was your doing.”

“Oh, I don’t know about….”

“But they were happy enough to do it. Your mother would make some great meal and then claim she’d made too much and it wouldn’t fit in her ice box, so she asked my mother to take some food home.” Steve smiled, “For a wise woman, your mother had a terrible eye for how much to cook without generating too many leftovers.” Bucky felt angry on behalf of his mother until he realized Steve was joking. Steve nodded, “My mother made those leftovers stretch like you wouldn’t believe, and you used to share your lunch with me when you saw me at school.”

Bucky frowned, “Are you a year younger?”

“Yes. Well, I was at the time, I don’t know about now.”

“Wasn’t that important in school?”

“We had lunch in common.”

“Oh.” 

Somehow, the world didn’t seem quite so scary and foreign. He might even be able to face those cold showers of Shuri’s. But that brought up a question, “Steve, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“It’s about the showers in Wakanda.” Bucky eyed Steve to see if he were treading on dangerous territory, but it looked like it was safe to continue. “They have both hot and cold settings.”

“Yeah, they actually have more. You know, the warmer, the colder, and the various massage settings.”

“But I’m not supposed to have hot water.”

Steve looked concerned and Bucky knew he’d made a mistake, “Why not?”

Bucky blinked, “I’m not….” ‘human,’ he’d almost said. He was an asset, after all. “It’s expensive.”

“Bucky, you are residing in the single richest and most technologically advanced country in the world. Hot water is not expensive.”

“Then… can I…. use hot water?”

“What have you been using for showers? I mean, you are showering, right? Not that it’s bad if you aren’t, I’m just asking,” Steve lied.

“I do.”

Steve looked relieved “Good. Yes, you can use hot water.”

“I’d like that,” Bucky said.

Steve turned to someone unseen, “Oh, I’m being called.”

“Go ahead, we’ll talk later,” Bucky said, happy that they would.

“Okay, use the hot next time, and look into those massage settings too,” Steve grinned, “They’re amazing.”


	19. In Hot Water

He sat a moment in silence before wondering if he should err on the safe side and ask Shuri for permission. He would, but that meant leaving the hut, and he still didn’t feel up to such a task. He stared in the direction of the shower, and he could imagine the warmth. He got up; if he took a short hot shower, maybe no one would notice the increase in hot water usage.

He got in the shower. Tapping the wall once made a blue square appear. Tapping it more increased the warmth. He tapped it repeatedly until the blue faded and turned to orange, and then reddish orange. He could feel the warmth wash over him, but images of repeatedly being put on ice made him hunger for more. He continued to hit the square, even though it seemed to be almost fighting him. A sound chimed, but still he tapped on furiously. Finally, the square turned red. The heat took his breath away and turned his skin red, but he relaxed for only a moment before a more strident sound chimed, the water cooled, and the square turned to orange-red; well, it was good enough. He relaxed and closed his eyes. Funny how the water pressure seemed to almost hurt now.

“Bucky, are you all right?” came Tamrat’s voice. Bucky’s eyes flew open and he glanced around for his clothes. “I’m not coming in, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky called out, aghast, for he’d used up too much hot water and now he would pay for it.

“Good. You tripped the water heat sensor.”

Bucky turned off the water, dressed, and came out. “Did you want something?”

“No, we were just afraid you were hurt.”

Steve was wrong; assets weren’t supposed to use hot water. “I’m sorry. I did use the hot water, but I won’t ever again. It was a mistake.” He wondered if they would let him leave quietly.

“No, you’re fine, You were just using scalding water. Did you burn yourself?”

Bucky blinked, “I wanted to be warm.”

Tamrat studied him, “The room temperature automatically matches your body temperature above a certain minimum, do you feel cold here?”

He thought a moment; he actually wasn’t cold at this moment. In fact, he didn’t remember ever being cold in the hut. “No, but I could be.” There was always that.

“Oh, well.” Bucky had never seen Tamrat so solemn before. The man touched his kimoyo beads, and the room warmed slightly. “Is this good?” Bucky nodded, even though the slight increase in warmth only made him want more. He’d forgotten he could change the temperature, seeing as he was in what appeared to be a hut.

Tamrat still looked concerned, “It’s, uh, generally a good idea to stay in the orange range in the shower, but I guess orange-red isn’t bad for a little bit.”

Bucky accepted the command, “Is it acceptable if I use the hot water as long as I keep it in the orange?”

“Yeah, whatever is comfortable. Uh, did you take showers in the Capital?” Tamrat asked, “When Captain Rogers was there? It’s okay if you didn’t, we don’t want to pressure you.”

Bucky nodded, “Steve commanded me too, but I didn’t know I could use hot water then.” He looked at a frowning Tamrat, “If I can, that is.”

“Of course you can use hot water, we just don’t want you to burn,” Tamrat said. 

Oh, was that all? Bucky assessed his condition to decide if he were burned, but he wasn’t screaming in pain, so he wasn’t burned.

“How much hot water may I use?”

Tamrat stared at him a moment before saying, “As much as you want.” If that was the real answer, why was Tamrat here?

“Was the chime the warning that I had used too much?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, it was warning you that the water was too hot. Then it cutoff. Sooooo, did anyone show you how to use all the features of a shower?”

“Steve said to tap the center for water.”

“Did he show you the massage settings?”

“No, but he mentioned them.”

Finally, Tamrat’s smile was back. “Let me show you the massage settings.”

Tamrat went around the bathroom showing him things the dark-haired man had never dreamed of. “First, I’m sure you have moved this around before,” Tamrat moved the shower head around and Bucky realized he could move it wherever he wanted. “And here are the five massage settings. These govern the strength or the water pressure, and these govern the pattern. This one gives you a customized experience based on the tightness of your muscles. You can make any of these your favorite setting. Oh, and you don’t have to keep on tapping, there’s a temperature selector here, but um, if you don’t mind.” He did something, and Bucky had the feeling his hot water had just been capped. Tamrat gave a guilty glance before continuing, “There’s a timer, oh, and you can play music of course from here, and release the scent here, and chromatherapy lighting here.”

“What?”

Tamrat hit the panel and a soothing pattern of colored light came from the ceiling. “There’s different settings.” Of course there was. Bucky was about to get overwhelmed, but Tamrat picked a setting, and the light shifted from turquoise to green to magenta and back, with a bit of white and yellow thrown in, and Bucky relaxed. Tamrat smiled, “You may never leave this place. You want this one as your favorite?” Bucky nodded.

Even the toothbrush had settings based on teeth sensitivity, although he wasn’t sure how teeth could be sensitive, and the toothbrush gave you positive feedback if you brushed your teeth for two whole minutes. Bucky didn’t know because he had never brushed his teeth that long. 

Bucky was afraid of using the shower after that, and he was sure he wasn’t being allowed hot water anyway. He went back to a quick, cold shower; he hated showers. However, the positive feedback of the toothbrush made him brush his teeth until the toothbrush got warm, which made him worried so he hurriedly put it down.

Shuri greeted him after his cold shower, “You know, I’ve been talking with Dr. Mboya. He says maybe you feel cold because you’re afraid you’ll be vitrified again.”

“I’ll be what?”

“Frozen. Actually, you were vitrified, which means the water in your cells was prevented from gathering together to form ice which damages your cells, so the water became solid without freezing.”

“Uh huh, I froze without freezing,” Bucky said, not understanding at all.

“Never mind. The point is you may be a little oversensitive to temperature changes, and microchanges in temperature cause you to remember when you were profoundly cold.”

“Oh.”

“So, if feeling a little warmer makes you relax, that’s fine. Just be aware that you might take it a little too far.” She gave him a salve, “This will make your skin feel better.” Bucky took it but didn’t know what she was referring to.

“So Tamrat told you, but he took away the hot water.”

Shuri frowned, “No, he just made sure the top temperature on your selector was a little below the fail safe.” She shrugged, “You know you scalded yourself for a second there.” Bucky waited for the punishment. “We want you to use hot water, but just use warm water as a way to relax, not a way to melt the cold in your soul.”

“And you told Dr. Mboya?” Perhaps he would administer punishment.

“You know this is a healing village,” Shuri said.

“What does that mean?”

“It takes a village,” Shuri said, “To heal people.”

“Do you tell everyone?” 

“Of course not. Tamrat only told me and only I told Dr. Mboya, that’s all.”

Bucky took another cold shower the next day, but that night, he dreamt of warm water rising in a mist around him and warm water pouring over him like a giant waterfall, slowly thawing an ice berg.

He decided to take a short warm shower and be very careful to keep it in the orange range. He tapped slowly until it just turned orange, and tried to be satisfied, but he gave it a few more taps so it was more solidly orange. Then he kept tapping until a bare hint of red came, when he quickly took it down to the next lowest setting. He held his breath and waited for any chime or for someone to come crashing through his hut. Tamrat had said he could go up to orange-red for a little bit, but he didn’t dare. When nothing happened, he relaxed slightly, and added the colored lights, and the lavender scent, and the massage that somehow read the tightness in his muscles. The massage was almost painful at first, but the heat of the water enveloped him and thawed his chilled bones even if it didn’t warm them. He let his eyes go half-mast and relaxed. He would only take a short shower.

When he focused his eyes, his hands and toes were wrinkly and puffy. He was afraid he’d be cold once he was out of the warm water, but he wasn’t. He saw food had been left for him: lunch, which meant that breakfast had been brought and also taken away. He ate the now-room-temperature lunch and then quietly went to the wood pile to chop wood, wondering how much would make up for what he’d just used up.

No one ever mentioned his indiscretion.

So he did it again, but this time he made sure it was a shorter shower, sort of.


	20. Talking by the Lake

Bucky was a little tense at talking with Dr. Mboya now that he knew who he was, and he prepared himself for a stern lecture about hot water usage, but he saw Dr. Mboya waiting for him by the lake with a basket beside him and a pile of rocks. Dr. Mboya smiled to see him, “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“I came for the beer,” Bucky told him.

Dr. Mboya smiled, “Of course.” Bucky paused before sitting beside him, and Dr. Mboya handed him a beer, “My name is Kimathi, by the way.”

“I can call you that?” Bucky asked.

“Yes. You can call me whatever makes you comfortable. What would you like me to call you?”

“Bucky.”

“Good.” Kimathi Mboya said. “Bucky, have you thought of any goals you’d like to have?” Bucky stared at him. Was this about hot water usage? “Any plan on how to become human?” Bucky shook his head, knowing he couldn’t follow the lofty guidelines of the website. “You know we could start with that website you found.” Bucky had forgotten that Shuri had told Mboya about it. “I’m impressed you decided to find it.” Bucky shrugged and looked down. “It’s not a bad list.”

“I’m breathing oxygen and I currently receive food,” Bucky said, he sighed, “I’ll never make it to the bottom of the list.”

“Well, I like to think of your list as points to cover. We can do a little on a few things and stop when it gets overwhelming.” Mboya studied him, “Let’s try something else, what makes for a good day?”

Bucky was still silent, but now he was thinking furiously, “It’s a good day when… I don’t wake up with nightmares….” He couldn’t think of anything else.

“Is there anything you like about your day?”

Bucky drew a blank. “Could you give me some examples?”

“I’m trying not to lead you. Is there food you like? People? A feeling? A place?”

A list he could use. “Food… coffee with cream…. Steve taught me that in the capital….Bacon bananas….People… Shuri, Thabo, Zani, and Lencho… Eshe smiling when I say I like what she cooked… I like staring at the lake, and this shady spot is nice.”

“Do you want to stay here the rest of your life?”

“What’s this rest-of-your-life stuff?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you might live fifty more years or more?”

Bucky’s reaction was immediate, “Oh I hope not.”

Mboya looked slightly concerned, “Have you ever planned your death?”

Bucky looked out at the lake, and skipped a rock. “It might be best for everyone if I were dead, but Steve would kill me if I killed mysel…” He paused, “You know what I mean.”

“We need to discuss reasons for not killing yourself. Any adult here would be more than happy to help you talk out anything at any time of the day or night.”

They covered a lot, and talking was intense. When it was too much, Bucky skipped rocks, and if Bucky got up and started walking, Mboya followed, or didn’t.

Near the end, Mboya said, “You’ve said you don’t feel you’re safe here.”

Bucky sighed, “We’ve been through that.” He looked over at the Dora Milaje, “I don’t think they can hear us.”

Mboya nodded, “They would be upset to hear you doubt their ability to protect you.”

“Steve is Captain America and he couldn’t stop the German Special Forces,” Bucky said. “Not even your king could keep himself from getting captured by them.”

“You have valid points, but first the German Special Forces would have to get into Wakanda, and our border security is of course quite exceptional. Even without that, we’re in the Mining Tribe territory, and we have a whole Border Tribe between us and the border with Rwanda.” He paused, “What would make you feel safe?”

“A defensible position, good intel, grenades with launchers, a SIG-Sauer P220ST, no, two, and at least two Gerber Mark II Combat Knives.” Bucky studied Mboya’s face.

“Is there anything else?” Mboya asked. Bucky wondered if it were too late to add another gun, but somehow he thought it was based on the doctor’s face. Mboya pursed his lips, “It just might be a good idea to see if we can come up with some other things.” Mboya nodded to himself. “What makes you feel unsafe?”

“Everything. HYDRA agents, explosions, gunfire, German anti-terrorism task forces, screams, attacks, blood, death, handlers, jail, electroshock, torture, bars, anger, someone behind my back, victims dying in front of me all night, anything at all that I don’t know about or don’t expect.”

“There aren’t any HYDRA agents here, we’ve done background checks on everyone, and there are no guns here.” Mboya said, but Bucky said nothing. “What do you feel like when you feel unsafe?”

Bucky looked away. He skipped a rock, and Mboya waited. He didn’t want to answer, and Mboya didn’t press. Finally, to end the silence, he said,“Cold, dead inside. Watchful. Assessing threats and identifying exits and ways to - never mind.”

“Would you like not to have that happen?”

He skipped another rock, still upset. “Yes.”

“Good, then together we need to work on ways to make you feel safe, really safe, and ways to calm down.”

Mboya talked about ways to calm down, and Bucky knew they wouldn’t work: breathing slowly and deeply, sipping herbal tea, swimming (were there crocodiles in the lake?), focusing on food and eating it slowly. How did that help against explosions and gunfire? Mboya asked Bucky to try them and see if they helped anyway.


	21. Calming Strategies

The next time they talked, Mboya asked Bucky about the calming strategies they’d talked about before, and Bucky wanted to be as positive as possible. “Yeah, it went better than I expected.” He looked up, but Mboya wanted more details. “So, yeah. I tried ‘em all and now I feel a lot calmer. Thanks. Guess we’re done now.” Even if all he had tried was the Nile chamomile tea, and he didn’t feel any better.

“Which?”

“Deep breathing,” well he breathed, didn’t he? “Nile chamomile tea, eating slowly.” Didn’t he slow down once while eating when the food had just come out of the oven? 

Mboya sighed when Bucky was finished and said, “You know, you can be truthful with me, I won’t get upset.” Bucky studied the man. How did he know? “You laid it on a little thick,” Mboya said. “I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, and there are no quick fixes.” Bucky waited for any fallout. “I am going to be honest with you, and I hope that while we sit by this beautiful lake in the shade, that you can try to be honest with me as well.”

Bucky stared at him; he wanted him to be honest? So Bucky tried, “I, um, are there crocodiles in the lake?”

“Thank you for being honest. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that there are no crocodiles. Remember that you’re safe here, and crocodiles would make you unsafe, and this is a healing village.” Bucky studied Mboya, but he didn’t seem upset at Bucky’s lapse in judgement. “So how about we try deep breathing again?”

“Um, can I ask why I need to change my breathing? I’m alive, I guess, so I’m breathing all right.”

“Good question. Shallow breathing keeps your body in a state of stress, which keeps you in a fight-or-flight mode.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. He took a deeper breath than the he ever had. He felt his stomach expand, and he slowly counted to whatever number felt comfortable, but for longer than he had before, held it for a moment, and then slowly let it out to a count. It didn’t make him scream, so he did it again, and again. His eyes widened, “This is amazing!” His brow furrowed, “Why do I feel more relaxed? Nothing’s changed.”

“Because you are breathing deeply. You’ve actually never been able to take deep breaths for awhile. HYDRA never bothered to deal with the mess they left your body in, and they just let your healing ability take care of everything. Your lungs haven’t been able to expand completely because of the weight of your arm on your body, and when they beat you, you would have had adhesions, or bands of scar-like tissue, until you healed.” Mboya said, “You got used to breathing shallowly, even when you’d healed.” 

“So it would be better never to have another metal arm?” Bucky asked. He was extremely tired of having only one arm, but he felt inhuman as it was without having to worry about a metal thing attached to himself. Still, he missed his arm.

Mboya looked pained, “You know a Wakandan arm would be lighter. Your last arm was titanium alloy!” Mboya rolled his eyes.

Bucky pursed his lips, “It was better than the stainless steel one.” He missed his titanium alloy one. He missed any arm, but the titanium alloy one was lighter, the fingers didn’t malfunction as much (although they got temperamental by Romania), and it didn’t overheat as much.

Mboya sobered quickly, “Yes, of course. Anyway, could you lean back your head for a moment and then come back to a normal position?” Bucky was suddenly wary, and Mboya added, “You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

Bucky willed himself to lean back his head for a moment, exposing his neck. His eyes widened, “That actually felt good.”

“All that weight from your arm would have strained the back of the neck muscles, too.” Mboya smiled slyly, “You know, you could think of deep breathing as a way to get back at HYDRA.” Bucky was suddenly very interested. “They didn’t care if you breathed deeply, did they?” Bucky didn’t answer, he was too busy breathing deeply and slowly. He pictured Karpov and breathed deeply and slowly in his very presence, and then he pictured Pierce and breathed deeply and slowly, and he smiled.

“Talking about ways to calm down,” Mboya said, “I have something for you.” He tapped one of his kimoyo beads, and out came the voice of Bing Crosby:

Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven  
Don't you know each cloud contains pennies from heaven?  
You'll find your fortune's fallin' all over the town  
Be sure that your umbrella is upside down

Trade them for a package of sunshine and flowers  
If you want the things you love, you must have showers  
So, when you hear it thunder, don't run under a tree  
There'll be pennies from heaven for you and me.

Bucky relaxed immediately, “Pennies from Heaven,” he said, and Mboya smiled. Bucky smiled sadly when it ended, “The film starts with prison.” Mboya hadn’t known. Bucky shrugged, “But it ends happily enough.”

They listened to a few songs there by the lake, ending with the cheerful “In the Mood” by Glenn Miller.

“So listening to good music is calming don’t you think?” Mboya said, and Bucky nodded. “Would you like to feel safe?” Bucky nodded again. “Good, so knowing that there are Dora Milaje guarding you, and we have surveillance tech, and there are no crocodiles in the lake, we can work on helping you feel emotionally safe and work on what makes you feel unsafe, things like triggers.” Bucky immediately tensed. “Sorry, you don’t like that word, do you?” Mboya guessed. “We’ll call it something else because I wasn’t talking about those kinds.” He thought a moment, “We could work on what makes you feel unsafe and then decide how you might feel safe again. What do you think? Should we plan ahead for how you could react to things, or do you not want to do that?”

“Okay.”

“So besides guns and explosions and such like, do you know what makes you feel unsafe? Besides birds half-seen in bushes, and the cold, and words with bad associations.”

Bucky thought, “I have no idea.” Really, how was one supposed to know? He had another thought, “Why don’t I know?”

“Human beings are built to survive, so if we can’t physically leave painful situations, we will emotionally, it’s the best we can do. The problem with that is it’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing. You start to shut off one area, another goes along with it, and so on. You may not hurt anymore, but you can’t love, either, until you don’t feel human.”

“Oh.” 

“But there’s help,” Mboya said, “You keep talking, and I’m going to set my kimoyo bead to read your heart rate and … I see we’ve just found another thing that makes you tense. You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Bucky nodded, feeling foolish. Mboya sighed, “But it was my mistake, I moved too fast. This kimoyo bead will measure various things that will tell me when you get tense. So tell me about your day yesterday.”

Bucky thought, “Well, I woke up…” 

The kimoyo bead whined softly. “Did you wake up with a nightmare? Flashbacks?” Mboya asked.

Bucky frowned, “How did you know?”

“This bead.” Bucky frowned more, not liking that bead.

But Bucky nodded, “It was a bad one.” He paused, “Actually, they’re all bad.” He sighed, “Then I walked out to the lake.” The soft whine turned into a more pleasing sound, and Bucky stopped again as Mboya smiled before encouraging him on. “And the waves were like little ripples, and Eshe was there with this big cup of coffee with cream, and the kids came by and challenged me to a rock-skipping contest.” The sound became excited and joyful. “And I thought they were going to talk trash and say how they were going to beat me, but they didn’t, and no one kept score.” Bucky looked at the bead that really sounded quite pleasant now. That’s a really interesting bead,” Bucky said. Mboya took it off and gave it to Bucky, “No, I couldn’t,” Bucky said.

“Of course you could,” Mboya said. “This will help you get in touch with your own body.”

So they talked about warning signs and coping strategies. After talking with Mboya, Bucky realized while he was tense in Namayeza, it was nothing compared to what he would feel in a city.

Mboya smiled when he said as much, “That’s why we brought you here. First, learn to relax in peace, then, you can go back to a city if you want, but even then, it will be a Wakandan city. Then, who knows?” Maybe Steve would come back if he lived in a city, and what about the red-head? Together, they worked on identifying warning signs and coming up with coping strategies and grounding techniques. 

“So try the calming strategies and see which you like.” Bucky realized Mboya was trying hard to let Bucky make the decision. Bucky hated making decisions; he’d looked up how to make decisions using his kimoyo beads, but it didn’t help. He wondered when Steve would come.


	22. Talking to Friends

Bucky cautiously admitted to Steve he was learning how to better himself by trying out deep breathing and other calming strategies. He could tell Steve was skeptical of the strategies but was careful to sound positive and encouraging to Bucky. 

“I got it from a Life Coach,” Bucky said, emphasizing that part in case Steve thought he was some loser talking to a psychiatrist.

“Good, I’m glad you have a Life Coach,” Steve said, almost giving it the same emphasis, as if he’d been worried Bucky would be a loser talking to a psychiatrist. Or was Bucky just assuming that was what Steve was thinking?

“Dude, you need a little deep breathing yourself,” came Sam’s voice off camera.

Steve sighed deeply, “See what I have to deal with here, Buck?”

“Come on,” Sam said, coming within view of the camera and sitting down partially blocking Steve from the camera, causing Steve to frown. “Life Coaches are very smart and suggest things that are helpful. Let’s all do it together. Romanoff, you could use this too.”

“What?” she said. 

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he realized he was the only one, so he stopped. “Okay guys, all together on the count of three.”

“How is changing your breathing going to change anything?” Natasha asked.

“That’s what I said,” Bucky said.

“What was the answer?”

Bucky thought hard, “Something about… it relaxes your body somehow. It made sense at the time.” He was still stupid.

It took a lot of convincing, but Sam got everyone to do it. 

“Interesting,” Steve said, a little impressed despite himself.

“Not bad,” Natasha said.

“I think you’re learning some great skills. You learn anything else?” Sam asked Bucky.

“Are you going to leave?” Steve asked Sam, who ignored him.

“I got a new bead,” Bucky said, showing his new kimoyo bead. “It turns out I have emotions and this bead alerts me to it. When I wake up with a nightmare it whines, but when I’m watching the waves it’s pleasant, and when I’m with the children or the goats, it’s actually kinda pretty.” Everyone smiled.

He also made Eshe happy by trying out different foods. She would study him when he ate to see what he really did like and what he was polite about. “Did you like the lamb skewers in peanut and spice rub?” 

“Can I have another?” Bucky asked. 

Eshe smiled. The next night, they had beef skewers with almond and spice rub.” “Which do you like better?” Eshe asked. 

“That’s a tough choice, but I think the lamb.” He paused, realizing he could actually say what he liked. He nodded, “I like the lamb.” They both smiled.

Even the rice was something to be marveled at. At first Bucky assumed the reddish tint was a spice that made the rice nuttier, but eventually he realized it was the rice. “Is this plain rice?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, but it goes great with this plantain stew with slow cooked peanut sauce.” And it did.

“I like it,” Bucky said, happy that it was true. Then he paused, “Why is the rice reddish?”

Eshe paused, “It’s rice,” she said. “Well, it could be brown or purple.”

“What about white?” Bucky asked. 

Eshe’s eyes shot up, “Well, this rice comes from the Alkama Fields, of course’; that’s the breadbasket of Wakanda.”

“Huh.”

He saw everyone else adding spice to their food, so he did the same and enjoyed it; after that, all the food was a little spicier. 

He went with Shuri and saw butterflies coating the forest; he found the silences painful and the need to talk awkward, but the butterflies were pretty and Shuri seemed to enjoy it.

And he not only talked with Steve via kimoyo, but sometimes Sam and Natasha too. Still, feeling human eluded him.

Bucky also liked writing in his notebooks all the things he was remembering, but he also liked talking to the goats. They were patient listeners and would head-butt him when he fell into silent, painful memories. Sometimes he played ball with them, too, gently tossing a ball onto their heads, which they butted back to him.

Bucky even had a system of who to talk to. When Bucky remembered his family, he liked talking to Winnifred, Becca, Constance, and Georgie. When he remembered Steve and other friends from Before, he talked to Stevie. When he remembered his recent years, he talked to Stevie, Sammie, and Natasha. When he tried to puzzle out his life now, he talked to any goat that would come near.

Bucky watched them for awhile outside their pen; they were frisky today and were playing King of the Mountain.

He sat down in their pen, and his favorite goats came running, bleating as they came. He rubbed them and gave them treats, smiling as they gently pawed him for more attention and treats. When the treats were out, they still continued to hang around him. 

“I remembered Becca last night,” Bucky told Becca the goat. Sometimes he slipped into addressing the goat as his dead sister, but while the goat never made him feel bad about it, he tried not to. It had been raining hard during the night, and that had made him remember tap dancing. “I remember when Mother bought her a pair of tap shoes.” He glanced at Winnifred before remembering the shoes had been Mary Janes with metallic taps on the heel and under the toe. He couldn’t really remember how his sister had gotten into tap. Had he taken her to a movie with tap dancing? Maybe one with Shirley Temple. Or Ruby Keeler or Ginger Rogers, or was it Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire?

“Meeeh,” Becca said, pawing him.

“What? Yes,” Bucky said. “That shouldn’t be the only memory.” He let Becca rub herself over his arm. “Nancy Drew! She liked Nancy Drew, didn’t she? And…. Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. Did that take place in Africa? Don’t remember which country.” As the goat pushed against his hand, he was inundated with images: Becca screaming in awe during a total solar eclipse; Becca caring for their mother when their mother almost died; Becca listening to the radio broadcast of the Berlin Olympics; Becca’s letter when he was in the army, telling him Sheena Queen of the Jungle had gotten her own comic book; Becca at a funeral, whose he didn’t know; Becca in Caravan Hall on the last day of the science fiction convention that she’d begged Bucky to take her to, seeing as he and Steve had gone the other days; walking Becca down the aisle of a church, with Becca dressed as a bride.

He started, realizing his head was on the ground; Becca the goat had butted him so hard he had fallen over. “You didn’t have to do that!” he told the goat, who was now licking him and nibbling his hair. “Was I not paying you enough attention? Sorry.” He petted the goat, who did a head/neck twist. The image of Becca as a bride was gone, but he still felt the pang in his heart. Just the image brought back emotions he couldn’t identify, but he could feel their strong echo. It must have been a powerful day. “I miss, you, Becca,” he whispered.

“Meeeh,” said the goat, and rubbed her head on his hand.


	23. Dinner in the Village

Bucky brought some chopped wood to Sope in an attempt to feel useful. The children clustered around Bucky as he neared the house, all except for Zani. “Where’s Zani?” Bucky asked.

“She’s worried about some test,” Thabo said, and Lencho nodded. 

Was she facing some trial all alone because Bucky’s presence caused problems? He caused pain wherever he went. “What test?” How could he ask for the pain to fall on him?

“She’s stressing over some history test,” Thabo said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You can come in if you like,” came a voice a few feet away, and Bucky turned around to see Sope at her door. “Unless you were planning on passing by without visiting me.”

Bucky hugged the chopped wood closer, “No, I was coming to give you this, plus some for Winna.”

“Wood for a nice fire!” Sope said, “Why thank you.” She accepted the wood and then indicated inside, “Come in.” As she put the wood away, she told Thabo, “Get him something to drink.”

Zani came out upon hearing guests in her house. “Bucky!” she said.

Bucky smiled, for the children always seemed pleased to see him. Besides Steve, they were the only ones. Well, Shuri, too.

“You must stay for dinner,” Sope said.

Bucky paused as a memory hit him: mahogany table, simple table setting, the shield-back dining chairs his mother found so elegant, blue Chinese rug, light blue walls with a hint of green. Laughter, everyone there. His mother inviting Steve to stay for Sunday dinner.

“Are you alright?” Sope asked quietly, not moving.

Bucky smiled at her, “It’s Sunday today, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Sope said, slightly puzzled. Bucky only nodded. 

They got the food out, and it smelled wonderful. Sope turned to her daughter as she came into the room, “How are you doing on your homework?”

Zani nodded, “I feel pretty good, I hope.” She turned to explain to Bucky, “I’m learning about Sologon.”

“Oh? Who is he?”

The children bust out laughing, indicating him with their jutting jaws . “Eh!” Sope said, hissing at them.

“Sologon was a woman,” Zani said, and Bucky looked abashed. 

“So tell us about her,” Sope said in her best prompting voice.

Zani nodded, “Sologon was born in the Fourth Dynasty, to the chieftain of the Bako and an heir of the Mighty House of Adolfo. She was an advisor to her father and married Maghan Kanaté of the Maghan Chiefs. In the last year of the Maghan Chiefs, messengers came with news of a great army overrunning everything in the east, and when Wakanda was attacked, the Maghan Chiefs surrendered, but the Bako refused, and Sologon shamed everyone into going to battle. She lead them to victory and started the rise of the Bako. Her motto was “spirit of iron makes stone of skin.”

Bucky smiled, “I see there’s a lot of history to learn.”

Zani had a great idea as she smiled at Bucky, “Tell me about your Fourth Dynasty so I can write a comparison no one else can do.”

Bucky looked down before saying, “We don’t have a Fourth Dynasty.” He thought quickly, “We did have a fourth president, James Madison.” But what about women? “Uh, his wife, Dolley, was important in developing the role of the First Lady and was active in helping women and orphans.” Bucky helped himself to more fufu and dipped it in his stew to hide his surprise at even remembering that much. He felt the silence was awkward but didn’t know if anyone else felt the same, “This sauce for the prawns is tasty, what is it?”

“Garlic and pili pili butter sauce.”

“Nice.”

“Did you like history in school, Sgt. Barnes?” Sope asked.

Bucky smiled, “I did. I liked a lot of subjects in school.”

“Did you play sports?” Thabo asked.

Bucky nodded, “I was a good athlete too - I had two arms then. - Three times I was the YMCA boxing champion in my weight class, which pleased my father because he loved boxing too, even though my mother didn’t.” He seemed to remember a lot of things only one parent loved; what did they like together?

“We have Dambe boxing you might be interested in,” Sope said. “What else did you like?”

“I was good in track and field, especially track,” Bucky said.

Sope smiled, “We like it here, too.”

Bucky continued, “I played baseball wherever I could, in the street, in open fields or empty lots.” He smiled, remembering, “Sometimes that ball had been used so much the seams frayed and there’d be this sound when it was hit. Then we’d tape it up.” He paused, “I was always one of the first chosen, and Steve the last….and that’s when he played at all…. Steve and I used to love going to Ebbets Field to cheer on the Dodgers.” He paused, “When the World Series was on, I always asked my mother to turn on the living room radio before I got home so it would be warmed up by the time I got there, but she said it was a waste of energy.” Bucky paused, “Baseball is a game with a small ball that you hit with a wooden bat.”

Sope nodded, “I’m told _Ta kurt om el mahag_ has some similarities.”

“Really?” Bucky asked. He realized he’d talked more than he normally did. “What else do you play here?”

“Wrestling, especially Nubian and Laamb,” Thabo said.

He had to the hut in the night, and he hugged himself against the cold, even if it wasn’t cold. Still, he remembered the warmth in Sope’s house.


	24. The Night Sky

He learned to look forward to the fire at night and enjoyed it even though Shuri didn’t come often any more but stayed in Bashenga or at court. On one such night, they were making malva pudding in a potjie which was like a little pot that they put on the coals. “It will take awhile to cook,” Eshe said.

“Good,” Tamrat said, nudging Bucky, “That way we won’t be responsible for burning it just yet.” Tamrat was terrible about getting so involved in the talking he burned his dessert.

Tamrat’s sister, Bahati, smiled at Bucky, “I’ve always wanted to see the stars in the northern hemisphere, did you study the stars in America?” Tamrat laughed, and Bahati got up to hit her brother, “It’s not the same seeing them in a planetarium.”

Bucky frowned, feeling nothing but a blank. Then he said, “The waterfront was really gritty and industrial in the daytime, but at night, the moon and the electric lights caused this glow - that’s not what you asked.” He thought furiously, “Yes, I did. There’s…” He thought really hard, “the Big Dipper, which some people call a Wagon and my parents called the Plough.”

Bahati smiled, “I hear it’s about as famous as the Tree of Life is to us.”

“What’s it a Dipper for?” Tamrat asked.

“Well, I don’t know about everyone, but we said it lost its milk when it was upside down in the springtime,” Bucky said.

“Have you seen the Tree of Life?” Bahati asked, trying not to get excited.

“No,” Bucky said. With such a name, it probably wasn’t allowed for someone like him.

Bahati got up and held out her hand, “Come on, the pudding will take awhile yet.”

Tamrat laughed and told Bucky with a solemn face, “You’d better, she’s an astronomer.”

“Oh, stop it,” Bahati told her brother.

Bucky smiled shyly, “I’d like that.” It occurred to him that he might have liked astronomy in the distant past.

“I’ll call if you get lost,” Eshe told them with a smile. “Are you warm enough?” Bucky nodded; he was choosing this, he would be fine to step into the cold.

It wasn’t that cold. Bahati showed him the stars, and despite his ribbing, Tamrat came along.

Bucky looked up at all the stars, “They’re beautiful.” He tried to be casual about hugging himself against the cold.

“See those two very bright stars that seem to point to a tree or cross? You call the one furthest out Alpha Centauri; it is a triple star system. The stars you call Alpha and Beta Centauri point to the Tree of Life, which others combine into the Giraffes,” Bahati said, pointing, “The two brightest stars of the Tree of Life point to the Southern Pole, and I believe some of the stars of the Big Dipper do the same for the Northern Pole.”

“They do,” Bucky said, “Two in the bowl.” He studied the sky as if he’d never seen it before, “There are two crosses,” Bucky said, frowning, feeling it was very important to be looking at the right one for some reason. 

“One is the true one and one is the false one, but you know if you’re looking at the right one because it’s by the Old Bag of the Night, which are those two large overlapping clouds of dust 610 and 790 light years from Earth.”

“What?” Bucky asked. Tamrat laughed. “Right, light years, I’ve heard about them.”

Bahati rephrased her statement. “See that dark spot? It’s actually caused by dust, and it’s really, really far from here.”

“Oh.” 

“Nearby, guarding the Tree of Life, is the Panther,” Bahati said.

“Of course he does,” Bucky said.

“There’s a triangle with a three-sided bottom and then the curve of a tail, and in between you have a bright star, which you call Alphard, at the foot of the foreleg of the Panther, and another bright star, Regulus, towards the top of the hind leg.”

“Hmm,” Bucky said, still straining to see it.

“Here,” Bahati said, and suddenly Bucky could see red lights glowing above her kimoyo beads, showing a picture of what he was supposed to see. Somehow, the red light didn’t destroy his night vision.

“I’m impressed you know what I would be calling them,” Bucky said.

“I can switch back between what Wakanda sees and what the West sees,” Bahati said, switching back and forth. The scene changed because the West saw different constellations, and Bucky was amazed at their technology. “What we call the Tree of Life, you call the Southern Cross.”

Bucky froze as he read the screen with her, “Hydra?” One of their most beloved constellations included the constellation the West called Hydra?

“Blast!” Bahati asked, turning off her beads fast.

“The head is Hydra,” Bucky said. How could they do this to him? Wakanda was supposed to be a safe place, everyone said so, and all this time Hydra was looking down on him from the sky? His legs felt like jelly, and he wanted to hide in his hut.

“No,” Bahati said.

“The constellations are just stories, anyway,” Tamrat said, “Maybe we should go back.”

“No,” Bahati said, “See, we cut off the head of Hydra. Well, we use a bit of the constellation for the foreleg, too, but we cut Hydra into pieces. The tail is from your Leo. Either way, Hydra’s destroyed, and we don’t call it Hydra, anyway, it’s the West that does.”

Bucky released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “Okay, that’s right.” He took another breath. “It’s just stories, anyway.” He didn’t know why he got so worked up about it, but just thinking about Hydra made him…. but he was okay now. Their beloved Panther had destroyed Hydra, and that was good. Wakanda was still a good place.

“The malva pudding’s ready!” came Eshe’s voice. 

“I think that’s enough stargazing for now,” Bahati said, “Let’s eat some pudding.”

Bucky nodded, and looked up once more to make sure Hydra’s head was cut off before following them.

But Bucky continued to think about what Bahati said as he received his pudding. “So you’re an astronomer?”

Bahati nodded, “I study exoplanets to see if we can found another colony.” Bucky froze in the action of bringing his pudding up to be eaten. Bahati shrugged, “Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one.”

Tamrat cocked his head, “Not even in this solar system?”

Bucky frowned, “An ex-planet….?” What was that?

“Exoplanet, a planet beyond our solar system,” Bahati said, and Bucky’s eyebrows raised. “We’ve, well, we found one in the Panther foreleg that was habitable. It’s a long trip, but we have settled part of it.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. He’d thought it the height of imagination to picture actually going to the Moon in a rocket, and they had Wakandans living on an alien world that looked like a dot of light to him. Then he remembered what he’d decided to say any time he heard something amazing, “Of course you have people living on another planet.” He thought a moment more, “Wait, that’s absolutely incredible, do you have pictures? I’ll bet it’s too far to have pictures. What’s it like to step out on another world?” As Bahati smiled, his mind jumped tracks and he grew hopeful, “There aren’t canals on Mars, are there? I know almost all the astronomers say they don’t exist, and the planet is too cold and dry.”

“Canals?” Bahati asked vaguely.

Bucky sighed, “I knew he was wrong; too bad, though, I would have like to have seen those canals.” Bahati still looked blank, “Never mind,” Bucky said, looking down.

“We do have a colony on Mars, and on the Moon, too,” Bahati said.

“Is there anywhere you don’t have colonies?” Bucky asked.

“Of course,” Bahati said, not understanding his reaction, “Everywhere else. But I would love to show you what Bast looks like. It’s a harsh world, but it has its own beauty.”

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Panther is not a constellation for any African tribe that I know of, but the Babylonians and the Aibshinaabe saw a Panther, and the Aibshinaabe used part of Hydra to create it.
> 
> In the comics, Wakanda settled a planet called Bast in T’challa’s time.
> 
> I wanted Bast to be in the Panther constellation just because, (but also in the Hydra constellation to bother Bucky).
> 
> Birnin T’Challa is a city on Bast that is said to look like Coruscant in Star Wars. It’s part of an Intergalactic Empire of Wakanda, but as they just started under T’Chaka, I’m not including that.


	25. The Personal Planetarium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein lies a totally gratuitous but fascinating chapter about planet Bast, and then a look into how a man from 1945 would react to our current knowledge of own solar system, with an extra twist, because Wakanda is ahead of us. If you like that sort of thing, enjoy. If not, feel free to skip. All you need to know is Bucky remembers Pluto being discovered in 1930.

After dinner the next day, Bahati came by. “Would you like to see pictures of Bast? That’s our colony.”

“I remember,” Bucky said, “And I would love that.”

Bahati smiled and touched her kimoyo, “It’s in the Benhazin System.” She showed pictures of alien vistas. The skies were still blue and some of the plants green, but it was a real alien planet, and some of the planets were anything but green.

“Holy cow,” Bucky said, slack-jawed.

“It’s a really interesting place. Benhazin is a little cooler than Sol, so Bast circles a little closer.” Bucky just looked at the pretty pictures. “We even met life in the eastern hemisphere.” Bucky gasped, and she showed lots of pictures of real-life aliens, and Bucky’s jaw stayed dropped. “So we settled in the west and named our first settlement Birnin T’Challa.” The pictures of the “first settlement” were way beyond what Bucky expected; it looked more like the movie Metropolis than anything else, or like cities he saw in Wakanda.

“That’s amazing,” Bucky said when he found his voice. He frowned, “And it’s a planet but not in our solar system.” The universe was far more amazing than he could have ever imagined.

Bahati nodded and brought up another picture, which disappointed Bucky at first since it wasn’t the Benhazin System, but then his interest was piqued because he didn’t know what it was. “Beautiful,” Bucky said, “Are you thinking of colonizing this, too?” Bahati stared at him, surprised, one arm hovering over her kimoyo as if she were frozen just as she was going to change the picture. 

Bucky went back to study the sight before she did so. It was a huge solar system. There was a yellow sun, a couple of rocky planets with one being a nice, friendly blue, and then four gas giants, all with rings, although only the rings around the second gas giant were really big and beautiful; the others were alien and dim. There were an amazing number of moons around the gas giants, and some of them had interesting orbits. Beyond the gas giants were more planets, and the further out they got, the more likely they were to have very eccentric orbits. One planet that orbited closest to the furthest gas giant out almost had an anti-planet that orbited in a similar eccentric orbit that was pointed opposite from the other, and when one was on closer approach to its sun, the other was further. The hologram panned through the whole solar system, speeding up as it did so. The planet at the edge of this weird solar system had an eccentric orbit that took it out of the picture. It was a lot to take in. Finally, he asked, “So what system is this? Are you studying this one?”

“It’s, well, um, it’s our own solar family,” Bahati said. 

Bucky stared at her and then at the huge solar system again. “But,” he said, “No.” He was able only to point at the four gas giants. “Rings,” he finally said.

“Yes, they all have rings.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and then closed. How had they missed rings around all the gas giants? Sure they were dim, but. “Is this really our solar system?” The view went back to focusing on the first planets, but he didn’t recognize them. It almost seemed as if Mercury and Venus were not tidally locked, but he knew they should be. Still, it was hard to be sure unless he watched them longer. Venus definitely rotated backwards. Uranus not only rotated backwards, it was on its side, just like its dim rings and its moons. “Where’s Pluto?”

She pointed at the eccentrically orbiting planet that was nearly paired with a anti-planet. He pointed numbly at the anti-planet.

“That’s Obaluaye,” Bahati said, “But you call it…. Orcus.”

“Oh.” Bucky didn’t know what to think. He stared at how weird Pluto had become and remembered the excitement learning about a new planet on the extreme edge of the known solar system. The front page of the New York Times had proclaimed, ‘Ninth Planet Discovered on Edge of Solar System; First Found in 84 Years.’ They hadn’t known its orbit nor its distance at first, and he’d fantasized about what a dim planet on the edge of the solar system would look like. 

He remembered Pluto had been Planet X when it was discovered, and later, they decided what to call it after everyone had sent in their ideas. The Barnes family had never submitted their suggestions. 

He remembered sitting under the stars with Becca in Brooklyn as they looked between buildings. “Here’s our chance to name a second planet for a goddess,” she had said. He remembered he had wanted to suggest a male god, but he agreed with her that there should be more goddesses, so he hadn’t given his suggestion, and he didn’t remember what it was now, if he had one.

“What would you name it?” Bucky had asked.

“Minerva, because women are wise.” Becca had just been learning mythology and was proud of it.

“You’re putting a goddess out in the middle of nowhere and we’ll never see her,” Bucky had teased. 

She’d pouted, “It’s not like we had much choice.” She thought some more, “Maybe Proserpina. She’s the goddess of the underworld, you know.”

“Mm hm, and the goddess of spring.” He’d received a swat for that.

Their mother had come out, “It’s time for bed. What are you doing out here?”

“Naming planets,” Bucky had told her, “What would you name it?”

She thought a moment, “It’s in the dark. I’d name it Nyx.”

Becca had been excited when she learned Minerva had been on the shortlist for names, but a British girl had been the first to come up with the name that stuck: “Pluto.” Becca had cried over that.

He’d always pictured lonely Pluto at the edge of the solar system, but now Pluto had an anti-partner and wasn’t even close to being in the middle of the solar system.

He didn’t recognize Pluto, either. He’d forgotten they knew it had an eccentric orbit and wasn’t larger than Jupiter….. but now it had moons, one of them quite large. The other, smaller moons orbited with wildly differing spin rates.

Bucky through up his hands, “I give up.”

“What’s wrong?” Bahati asked.

He pointed to the offending object, “I just give up.”

“I’m sorry this looks different than what you were picturing,” Bahati said, “I was going to take you on a virtual journey from our solar system to Bast, but maybe another day.”

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore, and he walked away.

He instantly regretted it and turned around, but Bahati had left. “I’ve blown it again.” Why couldn’t he stop doing that? Would this be the offense that would get him kicked out? One never walked away from a handler.

To make things worse, there was a fire that night, but Bucky didn’t come out, and no one pressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our current understanding of the solar system:  
> Mercury and Venus were thought to rotate once around themselves for each orbit around the Sun. They don’t, but there are reasons why they thought that.  
> All four gas giants have rings  
> There’s bunches of moons  
> Pluto has an eccentric orbit that is mirrored, but in an opposite way, by the “dwarf planet” Orcus.


	26. Feeling Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the last chapter, Bucky walked away from Bahati because he couldn’t taken what she was saying.

Bucky didn’t want to go out the next day either. They might kick him out if he left the hut, and he would never get better. Maybe he could run away like he did in Romania, except that hadn’t ended well. Bahati was now angry at him and would tell the others.

He heard Mboya whistling a jaunty tune and realized he was late for his meeting with the doctor. Another failure. He didn’t like the thought of talking to a psychiatrist, so he pretended Mboya was a life coach (after all, they drank beers by the lake) and went out. He didn’t have time for a meal, and he quieted the panic that caused as he walked to the lake. His walk was purposeful as always, but it was slow for him.

How could the world ever be safe again? How could he be anything other than a broken thing? He couldn’t stop it. He should have been stronger. He should be able to handle it even now and he wasn’t and he was bringing people down. He’d made Mboya, a doctor with a double PhD, wait for a miserable loser like him who’d never finished high school just so he could support his family in the Depression. Why did he survive and the other prisoners of HYDRA didn’t? How did the people of Namayeza even look at him? No wonder Steve didn’t come.

Mboya took one look at him. “I think the beers can wait, how about some breakfast?”

“How do you know I didn’t….never mind,” Bucky said. 

They walked over and Eshe gave him porridge and some coffee.”I hope it’s just right,” she said. She’d remembered the silly children’s story which he had told poorly awhile back. Why did they care that much? He ate quickly while Mboya made much of having a second cup of kahawa. Then they sat by the lake.

“Feeling bad about yourself?” Mboya asked. Bucky realized only then that the bead that gave a sound depending on what he was feeling was whining and had been for awhile. Bucky skipped a rock into the lake.

“You couldn’t stop what happened to you,” Mboya said. “That’s why no one here blames you.”

“I could have been stronger.” Another rock skipped on the lake.

“Really? How could you have been stronger?”

Bucky paused in the act of throwing another rock, “I don’t know.” He skipped the rock. He was so stupid.

“Did they feed you well?”

Bucky set down the next rock and told him, “I don’t remember eating.” The last time he remembered eating (and that barely) was when he was a prisoner of war and they were starving him.

“Did they let you sleep well?”

“Don’t remember sleeping.” The last time he remembered sleeping was on the hard ground in the cold cell as a prisoner of war, and they had played loud noises to keep him from getting good sleep.

“Did you have control over your own body?” Bucky started skipping stones again, and Mboya fell silent. Mboya threw a few stones of his own, and they had a nice, silent contest with no one keeping score. Then Mboya said, “You wanna walk?” They started walking around the lake, and Bucky looked anywhere but at Mboya. “You were a prisoner of war who faced a group of scientists who designed everything to break you down and remake you into what they wanted you to be.” A metallic scream started rising in Bucky, and he picked up his pace. but Mboya followed in silence. Finally, he continued, “You were alone, yet you resisted.” Bucky realized Mboya hadn’t spoken until he had slowed his pace down, and Bucky resisted the impulse to walk faster again. “Is it realistic that you would be able to hold out forever?” Bucky couldn’t take it and started walking faster again.

Eventually, they sat down by where they had drunken their beers. “Say a friend of yours had been a prisoner of war, and he told you all sorts of horrible things had happened to him. Would you reject your friend if he broke?”

Bucky skipped a rock into the lake. “Steve wouldn’t,” he mumbled. Steve talked to Bucky even now, even if he didn’t visit.

“Would you?”

“No.” Bucky picked up a rock but didn’t skip it. “But I….. I should’ve done something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, something. All those people died.”

“Yes, it’s a tragedy, and it’s tough to accept when you are the one through whom it happened, but you tried to do everything you could.”

“Did I? I wasn’t good enough.”

“No one is.”

“There’s evil inside me,” Bucky said, staring at the rock in his hand. 

“There’s evil inside of everyone.”

“But I….. I planned what to do….. I had alternate positions and….”

“When you still had control of your body, when you knew your own name, did you fight them?”

Bucky remembered being in a cage with tormentors outside, waving food in front of him, and he told them to go to hell even though he was starving. They laughed and made smacking noises as they ate the food. He was too weak to stand and they waved a gun around and said they’d use it if he couldn’t stand fast enough. He remembered using the prison bars to stand up while the world tilted and he fell. They cut into him while he was tied to a table. They strapped him to a chair and sent fire through his….

He threw a rock. “I’m sorry, did you say something?” He didn’t know if Mboya had continued speaking. 

“That’s a nice rock you have there,” Mboya said. They skipped rocks.

“I don’t know if I fought,” Bucky said, “I can’t keep things straight. I remember people dying and then they seem to come back.” Some of his war buddies and fellow prisoners were odd that way, but he was pretty sure that just meant his memory was screwed.

“It’s not unusual to have memory problems after something like this. Maybe we could think of things this way. Can you think of a time when you remembered your name?” Bucky thought hard and nodded, even though the scream was starting and his heart was pounding. “During that time, did you fight them? In your mind or out loud, it doesn’t matter.” He could barely remember because of the screaming inside himself, but he did remember his name once; he had been scared and in pain, but he fought back with everything he had; he had sworn he would never break. He nodded. Mboya smiled and nodded, “See? You did.”

“I did?” Bucky whispered, hungry.

“Yes, you did.” Bucky could barely hear him over the metallic scream.

“But I broke.” 

“They kept at you until you broke.”

“But I couldn’t stop them.”

“It was beyond what anyone could withstand.”

That didn’t make him feel any better. If he couldn’t stop that, why try with anything? “But what do I do?”

“Become the best human being you can,” Mboya said.

That seemed utterly impossible. “It won’t bring them back, it won’t undo anything,” Bucky said, frowning so he could hear Mboya’s answer over the screaming.

“It can’t be undone, but you can work on helping others.”

“But I can’t help others. I’m not worth anything.”

“What HYDRA did was wrong because you are worth something, you do matter. You bother with everything because you matter. You have friends. You held out to the best of your ability. You were in a situation that was beyond you, but that wasn’t your fault, it was theirs, not yours.”

“I don’t know what to do about that. How do I live with this?”

“That’s a really good question. You start small, and you do little things that say ‘I matter.’ You feel guilty because of what happened, but that is not what you are, that is what happened to you. So you find out who you are, now, knowing what you know.”

Bucky stared, “Who am I?”

“A human being.” Bucky could only moan. It was hopeless. “So what makes you feel like a human being?” Mboya asked. Bucky could only shrug and look out at the lake. It was like glass but even that wasn’t soothing right now. Mboya waited in silence. Bucky didn’t even have the energy to skip rocks anymore.

“Not controlled by HYDRA,” he finally mumbled.

“Good, what else makes you feel like a human?”

Bucky wanted to run away and hide. “Able to talk about non-mission-critical things.”

“Are we losing full sentences here?” Mboya asked, concerned. “Okay. Do humans make choices?” Mboya asked, and Bucky nodded. “Can you tell me about the choices humans make, or should we stop? It really is your choice.”

He wanted to stop, he wanted to hide, but he didn’t want to disappoint Mboya. “Humans decide what they like,” Bucky stopped and nearly flinched. Assets didn’t like or dislike.

“Good,” Mboya said, “What else?” Bucky couldn’t think of anything. “Do you think you were a human even when you were under HYDRA?”

“No.” His answer was quick.

“Did you suddenly turn into a gerbil?” Bucky shook his head. “Do you think you might have been a person but didn’t know it, even if you were under HYDRA?”

Bucky stared at Mboya awhile. He didn’t think so, but Mboya seemed to, “I suppose.” He thought a long moment, “I didn’t know my name, and names make you human.”

“A name means you remember who you are, but you’re still human, whether or not you remember,” Mboya said.

“I wasn’t a human,” Bucky said, “I was a….. cyborg.”

“You have a human brain and a human heart. Aren’t you more human than cyborg?”

“I suppose,” Bucky said. That wasn’t true of course, because there was all sorts of metal support inside his body, but he guessed Mboya wasn’t counting that. He struggled to find words, “But those people are dead.”

“Yes, and you feel guilty, but shouldn’t the blame rest on HYDRA?” Mboya asked. 

Bucky didn’t agree, but he didn’t say so. Then he thought of a way, “Tony didn’t think so.”

“Tell me about it.”

“We were fighting. We’d just seen a tape of me killing his parents. Steve got in the way and told me to run, but we still ended up fighting.” Steve told him to run and he’d abandoned Steve just like that; he thought he’d been more loyal than that Before.

“So Tony had just seen his own parents get murdered, that’s pretty traumatic, and he would have responded out of emotion,” Mboya said, and Bucky hung his head. “He may come around and realize it wasn’t your fault, or he might not. Does he get to decide what you feel about your own life?” Bucky nodded. “Really? Why?”

“I killed his parents.”

“Aren’t you the one who gets to decide what you feel about your own life? Isn’t being human making choices?”

“But….”

“So we know of one person who doesn’t like you. How many people like you?”

“No one.”

“Really? What about Steve?”

“Steve won’t even come back,” Bucky said.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” 

“He’s not here, is he?” Bucky said raising his arm to skip a rock before dropping it, “I tried to kill him, Natalia, and Sam.” He sighed, “Sam hates my guts.”

“Didn’t he live with you in the capital?” Mboya asked, and Bucky looked at him in surprise. “Did he seem to hate you then?”

Bucky paused. All he could remember was Sam refusing to move his seat back. “I guess he got over it.”

“And as for Steve, I thought you were talking with him via kimoyo bead?” Mboya said, and Bucky shrugged, “I can see if I can learn how their war dog assignment is going.”

“They’ll just find another,” Bucky said.

“Actually, the point was to give you room to breathe,” the doctor said, but Bucky wasn’t convinced.

“The children like you, and their parents, and Eshe and her family, and Shuri, and I do too.”

“But I killed people.”

“Did you want to?”

Bucky balled his fist. “No!”

“Did you remember your name when you did it?”

“Um…..” he thought and thought, and couldn’t come up with an answer. There was only the scream inside him.

“Then it wasn’t you doing it, it was HYDRA through you. I’m going to tell you a story, and you tell me whose fault it is.” Bucky frowned against the screaming, trying to listen to Mboya. “There’s a person walking on the stairs, Aya, and below her is another person walking on the stairs, Adama. They don’t know each other. Someone above Aya, Aziz, hates Adama a lot and knows that if he can get it just right, he can make Aya kill Adama. He pushes Aya so that she starts flailing to try to keep her balance, but she still falls into Adama and that pushes him down the stairs, and Adama dies. Aya feels terrible about the whole affair, and Aziz goes away happy. Whose fault is it?”

“The one who pushed Aya.”

“Right, it’s not you.”

The next day, Mboya had a gift for Bucky, “I got something for you from Bashenga.” It was a kimoyo bead with a ladder on it. 

Bucky studied it intensely before looking up at the man, “What’s this for?”

“It’s programmable to do whatever you want it to do, you can decide later. Really, it’s for decoration.”

“You really like ladders?” Bucky asked.

“It’s an adinkra symbol that refers to the ladder of death.”

“Cheerful.”

“It reminds us that life on Earth isn’t forever, and you should live a good life while you have the chance so you can be worthy in the next, but I bought it because it can remind you that you weren’t responsible for pushing those people down the ladder.”


	27. The Solar Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry. Bahati explains why our current solar system looks different than what Bucky expected, and Bucky realizes Bahati was never mad at him.

So far, Bucky had not had any fallout for walking away from Bahati, but he dreaded when she might come to one of the fires at night. She came the very next time, and he tried to hide from her even though they were in a circle with only a few people. Bucky said nothing in the vain hope she wouldn’t notice him. “Hey,” Tamrat said, sitting beside him, “What’s up?” Bucky shook his head, still hoping he wouldn’t have to say anything. No one pushed him to speak, and everyone chatted amiably around him. He didn’t dare look at Bahati to see her glaring at him, but by the cheerfulness of the group, she must not have told anyone else about his disobedience - yet. She was probably waiting for a horrific reveal.

At the end of the night, Bucky was slinking away to his hut, thinking he’d actually get out of there with his skin intact, when Bahati stood between him and the safety of his hut. “Are you mad at me?” Bahati asked.

Bucky blinked, “Why would I be angry at you?” 

Bahati looked relieved, “Good, I thought you were upset at me.” Bucky stared at her. “Are you OK?” Bahati asked.

“Fine,” Bucky said. She really didn’t seem angry at him, but she couldn’t have forgotten he’d disobeyed and walked away from her, right? 

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t know how differently you were picturing the solar family; I should have researched it first,” Bahati said. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, she did remember. “You’re fine,” Bahati said. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” He knew apologizing wasn’t going to do anything, so he waited for his punishment. “OK, I just said something you don’t like,” she said. This wasn’t going the way he expected, but he didn’t want to ask. “I didn’t realize that in the West, you only knew about the planets up to Pluto, and I’m sorry I offended you.”

Bucky stared at her, “You didn’t offend me.” He realized she really wasn’t upset with him. He remembered the huge solar system, but he couldn’t remember why it was so huge. “Why did it have so many planets, anyway?”

Bahati studied him a moment before saying carefully, “It just had the usual hundred and forty-two.”

“What?”

Bahati nodded, “I’m doing it again. You only discovered up to Pluto, but there are other planets in what you would call the Kuiper Belt and Scattered Disc. You know of some now, you call them Orcus, Quaoar, Makemake….”

The words meant nothing to him, “I don’t….”

“I’ve read you’re having a really interesting discussion in the West right now about what makes a planet.”

“We are?” Bucky felt lost.

“Yes. We define a planet a little differently. We don’t mind a larger solar family, and we define a planet as one that orbits its star and has enough gravity to pull itself into a spherical shape. You add the requirement that it must be able to clear other objects of a similar size from its orbit.”

“We do?”

“Yes, apparently, you don’t like big solar families. Did you know if the Earth were put in Pluto’s orbit, it would barely clear its orbit?”

“What?”

“You’re afraid there are hundreds out there, but most are too small to be round.”

“Hundreds?”

“Yes, you call them ‘dwarf planets.’” She smiled, “I think our term is a little friendlier.”

Bucky’ head was reeling, “But Pluto’s still the ninth?”

Bahati blinked, “The tenth.” Bucky was speechless. How did they miss an entire planet? Bahati racked her brains, “Oh right, you don’t think Ceres is a planet for some reason.”

“Where’s Ceres?”

“In the asteroid belt.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Bucky said, feeling only slightly better before frowning again, “What’s friendlier?”

“Our terms. Yours are so cold, ‘solar system,’ ‘dwarf planet.’”

“What are yours?” Bucky asked.

“Solar family,” Bahati said, smiling, “The inner planets are our solar nuclear family, the outer planets are our extended, the planets in the Kuiper Belt and scattered disc are our cousins, and the exoplanets are our friends, and we focus on a few interesting ones when we talk about the solar family. You have thousands of rivers but focus on only a few, why is the solar family any different?”

Bucky didn’t even know what she was talking about.

“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you’re picturing ten planets.”

Bucky sighed, “Nine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the Foundation to Reinstate Pluto as a Planet. For those who might not remember, Pluto is currently called a dwarf planet. My sisters and I came up with the idea of classifying planets with family terms (you might have noticed that we’re astronomy geeks).


	28. Child’s Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More astronomy, but who can pass up Planet Bucky? My thought is an advanced culture is going to have advanced toys.

Every so often, Bucky was invited to dinner by Sope or Winna, and while he dreaded them in the beginning, he ended up rather liking them. One time he walked with the children to the village, he pointed to the ruins in the distance. “Can I ask what are those?” If it was some great disaster, he didn’t want to intrude.

“What a great idea,” Thabo said, “Let’s go.”

“But Umama expects us,” Zani said.

Thabo manipulated his kimoyo beads and talked to the image of his mother floating over them, “Umama, can we show Bucky the Stone Circle? We’ll be a little late.”

“All right, but don’t dawdle,” Sope said.

So they walked over. Bucky didn’t want to anger Sope, so he quickened his pace and saw that the children kept up.

They walked up to megalithic stones, hand-hewn, some leaning slightly, and all overgrown with plant life. The place felt impossibly old. Scattered among the large stones were little ones, some very little, with holes in them, probably for some ritual purpose. Bucky had very little sense of the history of the country. Had Wakandans always been here? Had there been another culture before them? Would the children even know who built the site? 

“This looks like…” Bucky strained to remember, “Stonehenge?” he wasn’t sure.

“Isn’t it cool?” Zani asked. 

Bucky wasn’t sure ‘cool’ was the word to describe something like this. “Do you know who built it?”

“No,” the children chorused. Bucky suspected as much.

After dinner, Bucky told Sope, “The children play in the stone circle.”

Sope nodded, waiting for his question, “Yes?”

Bucky paused, “Is it sacred?”

Sope laughed and then visibly tried to stop. “It’s a children’s playground. You don’t have playgrounds in America?”

Bucky ducked his head and wanted to disappear into the floor, “No, we do. They look like…. playgrounds.”

Thabo piped up, “I’m measuring the movement of the sun over a period of time, and at sunset on my birthday, the sun is going to align with a little hole I carved.”

Bucky blinked. “Really?” 

Thabo nodded, “I chose sunset because I don’t want to have to get up for sunrise.”

“He’s lazy,” Zani said, and Thabo pushed her.

“Don't push your sister,” Bucky said before wondering where that refrain came from.

Sope nodded and turned to Thabo and Zani, “You should show him the learning hut, too.”

“Yay!” Zani said, “I’m sure I can get my planet to be habitable.” Bucky groaned inside: please, not another planet.

“You will never make your planet habitable,” Thabo told her before turning to Bucky, “I don’t care if mine are habitable, I just like ejecting them from the solar family.”

“What?” Bucky asked. Sope just smiled.

“Come on, maybe you can help me,” Zani said. Bucky was sure he couldn’t. They walked in the growing darkness, and Bucky realized he’d be walking back to his hut in the dark, but he reminded himself he’d never been cold yet.

The learning hut was huge, and “hut” was a misnomer. They went inside. Along its curved walls were stations for chemistry sets, water sets, microscopes, and the glow Bucky knew meant holographic somethings.

Zani led him to an area that had nothing and touched the wall panel. A 3D solar system appeared with a brilliant sun and five pretty, rotating planets that circled the sun. Zani pointed out two of the planets in the middle of the system, “I want life on either of these two planets.” She looked at Bucky, who didn’t know what to do, so he just nodded. “This is Osanyin and this one is Aye. I’m really hoping for Osanyin.”

“So how do you make life happen?” Bucky asked.

That was apparently the wrong question, because she realized he didn’t know what the heck was going on. She explained, “This is a solar family maker, don’t you have them in America?” He shook his head. She frowned, “I input the spectral type of my stars, and how many planets. Then I input the size of the planets, and lots of stuff.” She looked at her notes, the game, or something, and read them off, struggling with the big words, “The eccentricity of their orbits, you know, how squashed the circle is, the semi-major axis in AUs (half the distance for the longest part of the squashed circle), the axial tilt (the angle between its spinning around itself and its spinning around its sun), and so on.” She shrugged, “If you tell it why you chose your options, it offers suggestions.” She shrugged, “And I ask Bahati for help sometimes.” She brightened, “But then the game tells me what happens, and I can change it until I like it.” Bucky nodded as if he knew what she was talking about. “But I still don’t have life.”

“Hm,” he said, “That’s a problem.”

Thabo started chanting, “Rogue comet, rogue comet.”

“Oh, shut up,” Zani said before turning to Bucky, “He’s being mean and hopes a comet comes by to crash into my planets.”

But now that Thabo had gotten his teasing out of the way, he was ready to help, “You’re trying to get two planets to orbit within your HZ. Maybe you should pick your favorite and put it smack in the middle. Then, once you have a system that works, you can go back to trying for two.”

Zani considered this, “I’ll try it.” She input some variables, and the orbits in her solar system changed. She smiled at Bucky, “I picked Osanyin because I like the name. Poor Aye, but maybe it can have life later.”

“Did you get life?” Bucky asked. 

“We’ll have to wait and see. Life takes billions of years to develop, you know, so I’ll have to come back tomorrow,” Zani said, and Bucky just nodded.

“Would you like to create a solar family?” Thabo asked.

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Bucky said, and he meant it.

“No, we’ll help. What kind of solar family would you like?” Zani asked.

“I wouldn’t begin to know,” Bucky said, taking a step back.

“What’s the perfect planet?” Zani asked. Bucky drew a blank. Zani pursed her lips, “Okay, if I were going to create a planet Bucky, what would it be like?”

Bucky’s eyes focused far in the distance. “A dead planet going round and round for millennia in the empty darkness, ceaselessly circling a sullen red star, and on the planet, the winds never stop howling.”

Zani frowned, “That doesn’t sound very cheerful.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Thabo said, “She doesn’t like my planetary billiard balls either. Would you like to see my solar family? Of the ones that are left, I’ve got one on its side in a retrograde orbit, and two in smithereens. Cool, huh?”

“You are very cruel,” Zani told her brother.

“I have to check to see if one has coalesced yet.” Thabo said. He turned to Bucky, “I’ll help you with your dead planet. If you want howling winds, we might look into how Neptune does it; I think Neptune has the fastest winds, or maybe Uranus. Anyway, do you mind if it’s a gas giant?”

But before Bucky could speak, Zani was thinking. “I’ll ask Bahati how to bring life to a planet circling a red dwarf…. if we’re going to have life, I need it close to the star. What happens if Neptune’s winds are so fast because it’s so far away?”

“Bucky didn’t ask for life,” Thabo said. Bucky agreed with that on several levels.

Zani crossed her arms, “I’m not letting him have a dreary planet with howling winds. Let’s get some hope in here.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said, not wanting them to argue.

“Can I bring life to your planet?” Zani asked.

‘No,’ Bucky wanted to say. What was the point? “Of course,” he said.

Thabo nodded, “We can still get you some howling winds.”

“Okay,” Zani said, “What color would you like your planet?”

“Sorry?”

“I know, it’s not like you can really choose; rock is rock. I think grey is sooo boring,” she rolled her eyes. “But you’ll want water for life so at least you can have some blue on your planet if you want. I like to use a little iron oxide to give the rock a warmer appearance.” 

Bucky could only nod dumbly.

Zani smiled, “You agree?” Bucky nodded some more since she liked it. “Great,” Zani said, inputting some variables. “Okay,” Zani said, inputting more variables. “Tell me if you like where your planet is.” She paused and frowned at the readings, and the area around planet Bucky’s orbit was red. Zani tried again before Bucky could tell her he liked it. The planet moved but was still in the red zone. Zani tried again, and the zone turned green. Zani smiled. 

“Did we win?” Bucky asked.

“It’s in the HZ now, the habitable zone. Now it’s in the right place for life, but we have to give it the right variables. I’ll check for suggestions.”

“And this could all be undone in one horrible moment,” Thabo said dramatically, miming a rogue comet.

Zani ignored him but announced, “We’ll need a gas giant to draw any rogue comets to itself so they don’t hit planet Bucky.” She glared at her brother before asking pleasantly, “What would you like to name your gas giant?” 

“I thought you were naming everything,” Bucky said.

Zani frowned, “Well, you get to name everything now. What’s a good name for a gas giant and the sun?”

“I really don’t know,” Bucky said. Zani looked disappointed at him, so he wracked his brains for anything.

Zani continued, “We’ll also need a moon so tidal forces will keep the core molten; that way we can have a strong magnetic field and keep the red dwarf from destroying our atmosphere.” Bucky’s head was reeling. It didn’t help that these were children he played ball and herded goats with.

“So, I’ll go slower,” Zani said, studying his face. “What would you like to name your star?”

“Stupid,” Bucky said.

“No, you’re not stupid, but what would you like to name it?” Bucky sighed again.

He was afraid they’d recognize ‘Sol,’ so he said, “Lux.” It meant ‘light’.

“Good name,” Zani said. “What’s the moon?”

Bucky realized they might not know Latin or be aware of the Graeco-Roman heritage after all. “Luna.”

“Good. See? You’re doing great,” Zani said. “Oh, and the gas giant.”

“Um.” He wasn’t sure of ‘giant’ in Latin, so he made up a word, “Giganticus.”

Zani frowned, but Thabo liked the name. They decided on the colors for Luna (grey), and Giganticus (with a bluish tint because of its hydrogen, helium, and methane, don’t you know, but with wisps of color with ice crystals and ammonia crystals etc, because it made Zani happy).

Sope smiled when Bucky walked the children back to their home. “How did you like the learning hut, Sgt. Barnes?”

Bucky pasted on a polite smile, “Very nice,” and he couldn’t tell if she knew how dazed he was. It was very dark when he went back to his hut, but it was not freezing cold.

He hoped maybe the children would be too tired from school the next day, but no such luck. 

“Come on, let’s go see how planet Bucky is doing!” Zani said.

She turned it on with a flourish, but Bucky immediately knew something was wrong. There was the sun, Lux; and planet Bucky; and Giganticus, but Bucky didn’t see the moon. “What happened to Luna?” Zani wailed.

“It’s over here,” Thabo indicated the far side of Lux. Luna had been captured by Lux’s gravity and was circling as an inner planet; it only now came into view.

Zani started tapping on her kimoyo beads, “Okay, we’re all right. I think Luna’s in a stable orbit,” she grimaced, “Now, anyway.” She tapped again, “I guess I wasn’t careful enough with the orbit. To get it in an orbit where it will stay around Bucky….”

Bucky shook his head, “It’s fine.” He didn’t want to cause any further trouble for Zani. 

But Zani frowned anyway, so Bucky wasn't sure if he’d given the right answer. She studied things, “Oh, guess what? Maybe we didn’t need a moon. Our core can still stay molten because of tidal interaction with the sun, and maybe we’ll put Giganticus a little closer. I still think our atmosphere will be okay, but maybe we should increase it a bit just in case.”

“You don’t want a runaway greenhouse effect,” Thabo said. Zani nodded and tapped her kimoyo bead. “That will be a real danger.”

Bucky studied his world as they worried about whatever greenhouse effects were, and he smiled, “It always faces the sun.” Both planets, Luna and Bucky, did.

Zani nodded, briefly looking up before worrying about whatever again, “It’s tidally locked, but the winds can distribute the heat caused by one side getting all the sun.” She studied her readings and nodded to the readings, “We can still have life form on the dark side, that will protect it from the solar radiation even though it’s so close to Lux. Or maybe we can have life in the twilight zones. Maybe the life can burrow into the mud when flares come, too.”

Bucky let her rattle on, and he smiled to himself, “We weren’t all wrong.” In his time, they’d thought Mercury and Venus always faced the sun.

“So, do you want to make Luna a moon again? It might be hard with the sun so close, but we could probably do it.”

“No, I like it this way,” Bucky said.


	29. Remembering

Bucky was frustrated as he wrote in his memory notebook and threw it across the hut. Why couldn’t he remember? A piano stuck in his mind, but he didn’t know why.

When he saw Mboya next, he asked about his mind. “I remember things, especially if they were repetitive, I think, but not everything.” Mboya nodded, and Bucky hastened to add, “I DO remember my family, I know what they looked like.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Mboya said. Bucky nodded. He did remember them, even if he’d had to stare at Steve’s drawings of them a long time before he did. “If you didn’t remember even your own name, it makes sense you might not remember other things, even if they are very important.” Bucky still felt bad about not remembering his family. “You might remember more as time goes on, or you might not, but either way, you are still a human being.” 

“Well, I’ve always remembered my parents and my sisters,” he lied. “I had an aunt, too, who made wonderful pies. No, that was my grandmother, Granma Hubbard.” He had no idea why he called her by her last name.

Mboya smiled, “What kind of pies did she make?”

Bucky thought, “Apple pie, and…. vinegar, and banana cream pie, and sugar cream pie and … others.” Bucky frowned, “But I can’t remember everything.” He took a deep breath, “There’s this piano.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t, that’s the problem.”

“What do you feel when you think about the piano?”

Bucky looked at him, “Frustrated because I can’t remember.”

“You feel you should remember so you’re putting pressure on yourself….Do you like pianos?”

Bucky thought, “Well, yes.”

“Why?” Mboya asked, and Bucky shrugged. “Can you remember incidents with other pianos?”

“Someone was playing piano in Romania and I stopped to listen to it. It was….. peaceful. It made me think of…… home.” He cocked his head, “That’s weird, I don’t think it was an American piece, so why would it make me think of home? I was in Romania.”

“Good, it made you think of home. Was there a piano in your home?”

Bucky nodded, “An upright, not a grand because we didn’t have enough money for,…” his eyes went wide, “That’s the piano! My mother played it.” He frowned in concentration, “And someone else, my sisters? I’m not sure.” Why was that important?

“That’s great. See? You just remembered more,” Mboya said, “Would Steve remember you telling him about it?”

“He’d come over and we would listen to them play,” Bucky said. “Oh, I guess he did.” He thought a moment, “Why don’t I remember more? And why don’t I feel things like others do?”

“Well, it’s different for different people. You were probably trained not to feel. As for your memories - there’s several reasons why you don’t remember. Some may come from the brain wipes and the post-traumatic stress, and some of it is a self-protective mechanism. Some of it isn’t, but as you can see, you’re remembering things all the time. Talk to Steve about the piano.” Bucky nodded.

“Sometimes you can remember when you’re in the same state as when the memory happened. Sometimes a sound or touch or visual will remind you. The memories will come when they come. But when they come, they can be overwhelming, so let’s practice on you not getting overwhelmed.” They talked about coping strategies.

At dinner, Eshe smiled, “If you’re hungry after dinner, I made a banana cream pie.”

Bucky smiled, “Really?” How did she know his grandmother had made such a pie? People just knew around here.

Eshe brought it out, and Bucky kept his eyebrows from shooting up. It had an Oreo crust. “It looks great,” he said, noticing Eshe was looking at him. “Really.” A little nervous, he took a bite and couldn’t keep his eyebrows from shooting up. There was something in the creamy filling. “Is that liquor?”

“Rum,” Eshe said, a little worried.

The pie was full of Oreos, banana slices, rum, and a creamy filling of cream cheese and lemon. It was nothing like the lovely pie his grandmother made, but he smiled “I like it.” And he did.


	30. Adventures in Learning

After bringing the goats back from pasture, Thabo, Zani, and Lencho hung around Bucky. “Do you want to go to the learning hut?” Thabo asked.

Lencho huffed, “You’re going to play in your solar family again, aren’t you?” Lencho looked at Bucky, “Wouldn’t you rather study the Cliff?”

“What cliff?” Bucky asked, already steeling himself for another mind-bending Wakandan “children’s toy”.

“The one behind the learning hut,” Lencho said, “I’m in this layer with quartzites, sandstones, shales, and granite.” Bucky just looked at him. “Or we could go rock hounding. I found beach agates last time.” Lencho studied Bucky, “The rock hounding is via hologram, but you get to save what you find.”

Bucky longed for the days when children played stickball on Brooklyn streets with a broom handle and a rubber ball.

Zani took Bucky’s hand, “Bucky doesn’t want to look at the Cliff, he wants to see how his planet is doing.”

“We can do both,” Bucky said. “But I am curious to see if the sun has stolen anything else lately.”

Zani turned on the solar system maker thing, and Bucky was pleased to see everything was in the orbit he expected. But Zani was trying not to frown, “Do you like only having three planets?” Bucky felt a surge of anger at everyone pushing him, and he remembered how the Wakandans had turned the solar system into something unrecognizable. Zani’s eyes grew wide, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want to scare her. Then he had an idea, “We can have a planet Pluto.”

Zani frowned, “But we already have one.”

“But I want the one I know,” Bucky said, “And it has moons.” His smile turned sad, “Minerva, Proserpina, and Nyx.”

Zani lit up, “Isn’t it fun to create?” She happily went to work. “Which one is the biggest?”

“Nyx, then Minerva, and Proserpina.” Zani nodded and went to work. “And I want a Mars with canals,” Bucky said. He liked Mars.

Zani paused, and Bucky knew she’d tell him it was a terrible idea. “I like it, but it needs to be in the HZ for liquid water, and I don’t know if we can get two planets in the small HZ of a red dwarf without bad things happening to their orbits. Do you want a second solar family? We could have a nice G star; I’m better with G stars.”

“No, that’s all right,” Bucky said. When would he learn it wasn’t good to ask for things?

“What about having a Mars with ice flows that crack in long sections like canals?” Thabo suggested. “Giganticus needs moons, and you could plausibly have a moon do that.”

“It would be weird to call an ice moon Mars,” Bucky said.

“Call it Canali,” Thabo said, “Or Icemars.” 

Bucky smiled, “Icemars, sounds like an ice cream.”

“Icemars it is,” Zani said. “Do you have any other names for moons for Giganticus? It should have lots.”

“Uh, Tiny, Rocklet, and Flying Mountain.”

“Okay,” Zani said, not entirely happy with his choices. 

“He doesn’t have life, yet, does he?” Thabo asked. 

Zani shook her head, “It will take a little longer for life with a red dwarf because of the flares.” Just as she spoke, the red dwarf briefly turned blue because of a flare, and Zani sighed, “That just cooked any chance to have life for a little bit.”

“Good, because we still have to create those howling winds.” Thabo paused, “Actually, the differential heating because it’s tidally locked helps a lot. If you want howling winds, all we need is two air currents going at slightly different speeds so the faster one pushes the other. You also need a few objects for the wind to go around, like a few trees. And if they’re leafless it’s even better.” Zani stared at him, and Thabo said, “I researched it last night. You can get wind lots of ways, from rotation, from warm and cold fronts, etc. For a strong wind, you need a high pressure and a low pressure, and you need it to change quickly, well, that might be a little harder with a tidally locked planet. It’s also good if you have a big plain or ocean so there’s not much friction, so maybe you could have lots of flat stuff before your few objects that make the winds howl.” He paused, “Neptune gets its fast winds because of energy radiating from the core, so you could do that, too. Let’s try it and see if we get close enough for the system to help us. We’re going to need a lot of help.”

After that, Zani checked her star system, and her face almost exploded with joy and she hit Bucky on the arm, “I have life! Beautiful life! Look Bucky, look.”

Bucky let her babble on about the life. The system gave her a certificate which Bucky thought was holographic but which she could touch and show to him and her brother, “The Certificate of Life,” she read, translating for Bucky’s benefit. “This is to officially announce that the planet Osanyin has microbial life in the oceans. Well done!” The letters briefly danced with joy if you looked at them long enough.

“Are you going to start a new one?” Thabo asked.

Zani shook her head, “I want to see what other life develops. I don’t even have multi-cellular life yet.” 

“Save and Continue it is,” Thabo said. Zani nodded and saved the game. Bucky noticed she didn’t take the certificate with her, so it had to be holographic.

They came again. Zani wanted Bucky to experience her joy and felt things looked very promising for planet Bucky, but then another flare came and sterilized the planet.

They came again. On Zani’s planet, the microbes joined large mats, then something called “photosynthetic cyanobacteria” was born, and that excited Zani because they would add oxygen (the game told her so). Then came other single-celled life in increasing varieties which they both learned about as it happened, and Bucky smiled as she came up with names for her lifeforms. She said she drew them when doodling.

However, Zani’s good news made her discouraged over Bucky’s lifeless planet, and because of that, Bucky was sorry he’d asked for a red star (not that he’d asked for the thing in the first place). Thabo looked at Bucky’s lifeless planet and made a hand motion, “And here comes a rogue planet.” He looked at Bucky, “Does it hit?”

Bucky shook his head, “Near miss.” He looked at a dejected Zani, “It’ll come.” Was he actually hoping it would, too?

Zani’s planet continue to explode with life. Animals with a front and back, animals with a backbone, animals in the sea, on land, flying, with legs, and without. The preferred way to reproduce was by budding. Zani recorded it all on her kimoyo beads and also in a notebook. She took so long Thabo brought snacks, boiled maize, and Bucky joined him.

No life for Planet Bucky. 

Zani had a promising species that had three prehensile tentacles on either side of its head, and Zani called it Styletokthophasi. “I love my Styletokthophasi,” she said, drawing it in her Osanyin notebook. Bucky took one look, dropped his boiled maize, and walked out, breathing heavily. He would never had believe it of her! It couldn’t be! No, it had to be a misunderstanding. Yes, that’s what it was.

“What’s wrong?” Thabo asked, running after him.

Bucky tried to calm his breathing; the children hadn’t meant it, but did the holographic machine did? 

“You don’t like my animals?” Zani was hurt.

“No, of course I like them,” Bucky said.

“Then what happened?”

Bucky calmed himself. “Back where I came from, there was a bunch of bad men and they had a bad organization, and their symbol looked a lot like what you just drew.”

“Does the bad symbol have three tentacles on either side?” Zani asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Were they prehensile?” Zani asked, and Bucky shook his head. “Oh, well, you know in my drawing you can’t tell they’re prehensile, so I should really add the tentacles grabbing something, would that be good?” Zani asked. Bucky nodded. She had her animal grab ferns in the unseen water below it. “See? You’re helping me draw better. I like putting my Styletokthophasi in a circle because circles are so important, is that okay?”

“Of course,” Bucky said, but HYDRA’s emblem was also in a circle, and Zani could tell he was lying. 

“I will put two circles around it, for I hope the Styletokthophasi will become the king of my animals.” 

Bucky nodded. It wasn’t the HYDRA symbol because there were ferns and a double circle, and they were Zani’s alien life form and she didn’t mean it; but he still couldn’t look at it.


	31. Experimenting

Mboya studied Bucky by the lake, “I think we need to do something different for a change.” Bucky regarded him uneasily, for he liked the way they did it

Mboya brought out paper and paint, and Bucky frowned more. “Steve’s the artist,” Bucky said, a little uneasy.

“This isn’t artistry, this is therapy, and no one is going to critique you. Did you paint with Steve?” Mboya asked, and Bucky nodded hesitantly. “Then maybe this will bring back good memories.”

Mboya touched a kimoyo bead and soothing music came on. Bucky’s eyes widened; there was paint of different colors but no paint brushes. “Did you forget to bring paint brushes?” 

Mboya shook his head, “I want you to paint with your fingers.” Bucky’s jaw dropped. “I want you to feel the paint between your fingers and the paper.”

Bucky sighed, realizing he had no choice. “Okay, but don’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not going to. Can you paint me what you’re feeling right now?”

Bucky stared and stared. A feeling almost came but he squashed it, afraid of what it would turn into. But that was what Mboya wanted! What was that feeling? Where did it go? How did he get it back?

“What?” Bucky asked, finally aware Mboya was talking to him.

“Okay, try this. Listen to the kimoyo bead.” It was whining. “What does the sound suggest to you?”

“Panic?”

“Can you draw panic?”

“How do you draw a feeling?”

“What might represent panic to you?”

“It makes no sense to draw a feeling,” Bucky said. “What color would I use?”

“Whatever color you want.”

Bucky sighed and studied the colors; there were too many. He finally took black and put it on his fingers.

“Feel it,” Mboya said.

Bucky duly felt it, and then he smeared it all over the page. “This is stupid.”

“Are you drawing what panic feels like?”

“Yes.” Long, jagged, angry movements hitting each other and canceling each other out until the whole page was an impossibly hopeless mess. He pushed harder and harder as he painted and was breathing heavily when there was no white on the page to paint. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, “Now it doesn’t look like anything!” Black was the wrong color to use. He’d painted anger, not panic. Or was it even anger he painted? He couldn’t believe it: he failed in finger painting.

“I think you did a very good job,” Mboya said. Really? Bucky couldn’t see why.

“How about this. I want you to paint something non-threatening. Paint something important to you.”

Bucky stared at the paint and moaned, “What color do I use?”

“That’s up to you.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed together as he stared at the paint. He looked up at the Wakandan, “Are stick figures OK?”

“Paint what you want. Feel the paint squish between your fingers.”

Bucky fussed over which paint to use, finally settling on light brown. He painted one faceless stick figure with his flesh hand, carefully and precisely, with only the barest of details. Then he looked up at Mboya, “Is that enough?”

“Who is it?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Then how is the person important?”

“Oh yeah.” Bucky said. He considered the mostly empty piece of paper. He slowly painted another faceless stick figure who was smaller than the first, and then three more. Then he drew another figure slightly taller than all of them. He paused, and then drew another. “Is that enough?”

“Are they important?”

“Yeah, they’re important.”

“Who are they?”

Bucky paused, “They’re my family and Steve.” Mboya waited, so Bucky pointed, “This is my father and mother, this is Becca, Constance, Georgie, and Steve. They don’t normally look like stick figures.” 

“Are you in this picture?”

“No, why?”

“What’s the story about them?” Mboya asked, but Bucky looked at him blankly before frowning and trying to think, but coming up empty. Mboya nodded, unsurprised, “What are they doing?”

Bucky studied his painting, “Apparently, they’re just standing in a line.”

“What are they feeling?” As they lacked eyes, nose and mouth, it was hard to tell. 

Bucky shrugged. “They really like standing in line.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re on a piece of paper.” Mboya waited patiently, causing Bucky to sigh and draw a big square around them and add a triangle on top. “They’re in a house,” he shrugged, “Ours.” He sighed, “This looks like a two-year old drew it.”

“We’re not critiquing it. When is it?”

He studied the drawing, “Georgie appears about as tall as Constance, so it could be… but my parents are alive, so it’s before 1940. If you want a date, how about 1939?”

“Anything happen that year to make it special?”

“Yeah, everyone was alive.” He nodded, “My father was back with us, so that’s good.”

“Did he leave?”

“Yeah, he lost work and couldn’t face it, so he left. Bucky shrugged. “He came back.”

“That’s good, why did he?”

“He got a job working at the Navy Yard. Mom was angry he didn’t come back because of her.”

“Did she take him back in?”

“Yes.”

“How long was he gone?”

Bucky shrugged, “About three years.”

“How old were you?”

Bucky sighed, “I don’t remember. He would have left in 1933, no, 1932. I was in high school and I was 15, so I could handle it. Steve had it worse; his father died before he was born. Mind you, he also wore newspaper and cardboard in his shoes when they started falling apart. It was the Depression, after all.”

“What are they feeling?”

“They’re stick figures.”

“Create a story, what are they feeling? It’s 1939 and they’re standing in a line in your house.”

“They aren’t feeling anything.”

“Were they usually happy in your house? Sad? Did they quarrel a lot?”

Bucky looked away, and he didn’t say anything for a long time, but Mboya waited patiently. Finally, Bucky said in a gravely, quiet voice, “We were happy.” He paused, “We had our arguments, but we were there for each other.” He paused again, “And they were the happiest days of my life.”

“I’m glad,” Mboya said. He let Bucky dwell on his family for a moment before speaking again, “Can you paint me another, this time with a real story?”

“I keep telling you, Steve is the painter.”

“Is he a good painter?”

Bucky nodded, “He paints, he draws, he really likes drawing.” Bucky paused, “He does everything now, he’s Captain America.”

“Do you feel you can’t compare with him?”

“I know I can’t, but that’s OK.” Bucky said, sighing, “I know what I sound like, and I’m not bothered by it, really. Not any of it, because none of it matters.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

Bucky frowned, looking away, “You won’t like the answer.”

“That’s all right, as long as it’s honest, and if it’s not honest, as long as you can admit it and let us work on it together.”

“I’m dead,” Bucky whispered, and Mboya waited. Bucky sighed, “Not dead dead, I’m not crazy, just - maybe I am bonkers but not about that - but I….” He took a deep breath, “I killed those people. I know, Steve says it’s not my fault because of the brainwashing, but we both know that’s an excuse.” It was only after he’d spoken that he remembered Mboya agreed with Steve.

“Do we?” Mboya asked. “You said you tried to stop yourself but couldn’t. Steve says you didn’t recognize your own name.” Bucky eyed Mboya but said nothing. “Would you expect anyone else to be able to stop themselves when they didn’t even know their own name?” Bucky didn’t answer, and Mboya took a deep breath, “I propose other homework, which I think you will like less than finger-painting, but I would strongly suggest you do it.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

“I’d like you to talk about guilt with Steve or anyone else you feel safe with, and ask them why they feel differently than you do.”

Bucky thought a moment in silence, then, “Can I do the finger-painting instead?”

“I’d like you to do the finger-painting, but I’d also like you to talk with Steve.”

Bucky nodded, very unhappy, and he was quiet the rest of the day.

In his hut, he thought about what story he could possibly tell, and then started painting. It was another picture of his family standing in a row as faceless stick figures, but he added one cloud, one chimney, one door and two windows for the house, and then in a crowning glory, he added the outline of a Christmas tree inside the house.

And somehow he managed to never ask Steve or anyone else why they felt differently than he did.

He brought the masterpiece to Mboya. “Here’s the story, it’s Christmas,” Bucky said, pleased with himself.

“Good! And….” Mboya asked. 

“That’s the story. I added the Christmas tree to make it a story.” He pointed as if that would help.

“Is Christmas a happy time? Did you look forward to it?”

Bucky tried to remember, “I think so.”

“Can you tell me about a certain Christmas?”

Bucky looked blank, but after a ghost of a smile softened his face, the evenness returned and he said, “No, sorry, I can’t think of any one Christmas.” It wouldn’t do to say what he’d been thinking.

“What were you thinking of just now?”

The ghost of a smile came and went again. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Bucky sighed, “I only remember one Christmas.” Mboya waited patiently, and Bucky frowned, “Of all the Christmases, why I had to remember this one is beyond me.” Bucky looked up to see if Mboya would go on to something else, and when he didn’t, Bucky sighed again, “It’s nothing, but my sister Becca was worried about some food that had been left out, I forget what, but I told her it was fine, so she ate it.” Bucky paused, “So an hour later she was looking over the Christmas presents under the tree, you know, to see which ones were hers because we’d never had so many presents,” he paused, “We usually got an orange and some nuts in a stocking and maybe some clothes, and this time maybe we were getting clothes. Anyway, she threw up over the Christmas presents.” Bucky ducked his head and smiled slightly, “She blamed me, but really, who was going to let food go to waste?”

Mboya smiled broadly, “It sounds like a beautiful story but I’m curious how the presents fared.”

“Well, clothes are washable…my father disciplined me, of course.”

“Sorry to hear that, but see, you can tell stories,” Mboya said. “You want to update your picture?”

“Poor Becca,” Bucky said, “I’ll put some Christmas presents by her, but that’s it, she needs her dignity.” Bucky put the outline of Christmas boxes by the Becca stick figure.

“I noticed you don’t put faces on your stick figures,” Mboya said carefully. Bucky looked at him; was that a command? He added small eyes and noses for all of them but paused before giving them mouths. After thinking about it, he drew small, straight lines for their mouths, but it didn’t look right, so he turned them into slight smiles, except for Becca of course, who got a frowny face, and he smiled. 

“Were you close?” Mboya asked.

Bucky’s smile remained, but it saddened, “Yes, we were.” He paused. “I was a boy and she was a girl, but we were the two eldest, and Constance and Georgie came later.” His smile faded completely, “When our parents died, we had to take care of Constance and Georgie. I was drafted, but after Pearl Harbor I re-enlisted.” His eyes were lost in thought.

“Volunteering to fight in a war is a big step,” Mboya said, and Bucky nodded. 

“I miss them; I was human then.”

“Or is it that you have always been human, you just don’t feel as human as you once felt?”


	32. Preparing for Guests

Bucky sat by the lake frowning furiously when Shuri sat down beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad night,” he said. Of course, it was always a bad night, but this one was a little worse.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shuri said. “But I have some good news.” Bucky doubted it. “Steve and the others are back in the capital, and Steve wonders when he can come.”

Bucky stared at her, “Can he come?” Shuri smiled and nodded. Bucky couldn’t believe it.

But first, Bucky had to clean up. He looked around his hut, suddenly noticing he’d let things slide. He looked at the food he’d squirreled away in case the food disappeared and he faced starvation, and he hid it better. 

He looked at his bed and realized he’d never made it. He should make his bed properly, where a quarter could bounce off it, but he hit his first problem. There was no sheet. There was only the mattress, which didn’t go to the edges, and the blanket, and the reed bed. He straightened the blanket, tucked what he could, and he made those military corners. He folded down the blanket at the head of the bed, and then folded it again. He put the pillow on top, took off his kimoyo beads, and did the quarter test. It sunk into the bed and lay there instead of bouncing, and Bucky’s shoulders fell. He made the bed again, more forcefully, but got the same result. “Maybe they won’t notice,” Bucky decided.

He took out every piece of clothing the Wakandans had given him and carefully folded them just so, and he straightened the clay mug and reed bowl. He also made sure every drawing Steve had given him was up and was straight on the walls.

Then he went out and studied the goats and their fences. He cleaned off some of the dirt the goats had kicked up, but he found their enclosure roof acceptable. He studied the goats as they pushed each other off the highest place. They’d gotten fatter under his care, would the others be impressed, or would they think he was weird for raising goats? The goats Stevie and Becca noticed Bucky and came running, quickly followed by Winnifred, Natasha, Constance, and Georgie. Thomasina and Connie followed as well, and Sammie was apparently having a friendly day and came running for a rub as well, and Brooklyn and Dodger came along, too. Then Ebbets jumped off a roof and came running. “I can’t give you treats today,” he told them, “You’ll get fat again.” They happily nudged his hand and rubbed against his legs through the fence, and he smiled, “I love you, too.” 

He chopped some extra wood in case they had lots of fires at night.

So far, he hadn’t told Steve he was talking to a psychiatrist. Would Dr. Mboya be upset if he asked him to introduce himself only as a life coach? Maybe Mboya wouldn’t show up while Steve and the others were around.

He walked back to his hut. What if they expected Bucky to entertain them? That stopped him in his tracks. There was staring at the lake, feeding the goats, playing with the children, and eating Sunday dinner at Sope’s or Winna’s; that sounded like a rip-roaring time. What had he been doing with his life? He sat on his non-bouncing bed and put his head in his hand.

He started as he heard Eshe singing outside, and he peeked out. Eshe saw him and smiled as she sat by her pot. She called out to him, “Are you excited they’re coming?”

He walked over and decided to be honest because maybe she could give him some ideas. “I was until I realized I’m not good at entertaining.”

“You don’t need to entertain them, they’re your friends! Shuri says they need to relax just like you; sit around and do nothing and they’ll probably like it. We’ll have fires at night, and you can show them the village. Tamrat and Bahati were going to leave soon, but they want to meet your friends, so they got extensions on their vacations and they’ll be around.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“They didn’t go back on account of me.” They could anger their employers or teachers and lose their positions. They would live in poverty, and Eshe would curse his name.

Eshe frowned at him, “Actually, I thank you; I’m glad when they’re home.”


	33. Arrival

Bucky couldn’t sleep the night before, but he was afraid to take sleeping medicine for fear he’d oversleep. Eventually, he woke up with a start, so he had fallen asleep, and he looked up into the ceiling, wondering if sleeping medicine had poured from there, but it was impossible to tell. He peaked out to see if there were anyone around before deciding on a quick shower and changing. He didn’t use the massage setting, and he didn’t turn on music or lights so he really would take a quick shower.

Then he was out. Shuri smiled at him, “You’re up early.” Bucky blinked, realizing he’d always taken much longer to get up. Maybe he took too long taking his warm, soothing showers; he wished he could take one, now.

“Are they here?” Bucky asked.

Shuri shook her head, “We told them after lunch because you usually get up in the late morning so you’ll have plenty of time to….” They both paused at the sound of an approaching personal flyer. Shuri nodded, “One day I’m going to throw something really hard at Captain Rogers that makes him fall on his _iimpundu_ , and then I’m going to laugh at him.”

They could hear Eshe at her cooking pots, “Noo, I’m not ready! Somebody come help me!”

The flyer landed, and Steve bounded out, with Natasha and Sam beside him. “Your highness,” Steve said to Shuri, giving the Wakandan salute before turning. “Bucky!” Steve said.

“Steve,” Bucky said, giving him a manly hug. Bucky nodded to Natasha and Sam. Bucky paused at looking at Natasha. She reminded him of something, but he didn’t know what.

Steve looked around at the huts, “They’re not what you’re thinking,” Bucky said quickly, and Shuri frowned.

“This is Wakanda, I’m not thinking anything,” Steve said.

“Why don’t you show them around?” Shuri said, “You’ll give Eshe time to finish.” And Tamrat, who’d come to help his mother. Shuri turned to Steve and the others, “Have you eaten breakfast?”

“Yes,” Steve said, suddenly realizing something, “Were we supposed to come….”

“Later?” Shuri asked, “Yes, just like I told you.”

Natasha huffed, “Steve, you said she said any time.”

Shuri smiled brightly, “No, I said after lunch, and I was very clear.”

Natasha smiled back, “I’m sure you were, and I apologize for my dim-witted friend here.”

Steve cleared his throat, “Well, you can still have breakfast even though we’re here.”

“This is awkward,” Sam announced, and although he was cheerful about it, Bucky started to get worried.

“It’s fine,” Shuri said, with a look at Bucky, and he got the feeling she was saying that more for him than for Steve. “Let Sgt. Barnes show you around.” She put on a smile, “The friends of our friend are our friends, welcome.”

“You know you could call me Bucky once in awhile,” Bucky blurted out, instantly regretting it.

Shuri blinked for a moment, “Now that I think about it, you’ve asked me that before, haven’t you?”

“No, it’s fine, call me whatever you want,” Bucky said. It wasn’t, but that was beside the point.

“No, I want to address you the way you wish.” Shuri said, “In Wakanda, it is respectful to call people by their title, but I could see that would be an issue here. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on it earlier.” Bucky shook his head, wishing she’d stop, but she continued, “So you wish for me to call you Bucky,” she nodded, smiling a little, “It is good to call you by your name, Bucky, I’ll tell the others.” Bucky was sure she would. And with that she left.

Bucky had no idea what to show his guests. “Well, do you want to see the lake? The huts? I suppose the huts. Are you tired from your journey?” People asked that, right?

“The journey only took 30 minutes from the capital,” Steve said. Bucky froze, not knowing what to do.

“Show us the huts anyway,” Sam said.

Since Bucky was curious about their huts, which were in the previously unused section on the other side of his, he showed theirs. He stood there awkwardly. “You each get a hut.”

They bent down into the first one and looked around. It looked like Bucky’s, except that he was sure no soothing medicine or sleeping drugs would descend from the ceiling, and the bed probably didn’t read vital signs. 

Sam sat down on the bed, “Nice.” Bucky noticed it didn’t have military corners, and a quarter wouldn’t bounce on it, but no one said anything. Maybe he would not be punished if they ever saw his hut.

“Are you good with this?” Steve asked Bucky. a little worried, “It looks like camping.” Sam got up to explore.

“Steve, the temperature in here is perfect,” Natasha noticed. 

Sam’s voice echoed slightly from the bathroom, “This is just like in the capital; love those massages.”

Bucky pointed to the bed, “The beds are comfortable.” He bit his lip, uncomfortable with saying that, and Steve nodded.

Bucky didn’t want them to see the hut he was staying in, but they somehow walked there anyway, and Steve’s smile was mixed. “This looks like barracks.” Bucky still hoped no one noticed a quarter wouldn’t bounce on his bed. “You know you’re not a soldier anymore?”

“I cleaned up,” Bucky said. Wasn’t that a good thing?

“This is straight out of your army days,” Steve said, “But you’re fine.” 

“Oh, and you don’t do the same thing?” Natasha asked Steve, who shrugged.

Bucky didn’t like the silence that fell in the room.

“You said you had goats?” Sam asked.

So they walked over to the penned-in goats, and Bucky only now realized he’d never changed their names. “These are the goats.” Most of the goats came running toward him and clustered as close as they could to Bucky on their side of the fence. Bucky was proud of them, even though he hoped no one asked about their names.

“Which one is Sammie?” Sam asked.

Bucky sighed, “That’s Sammie, this one’s Stevie, that’s Natasha, and that’s Tonya.”

“So you named female goats after us,” Sam said with a smile.

“Sam,” Natalia warned.

“Yeah, Sammie hates me,” Bucky said, before wondering if that were a little revealing, but Sam only looked confused. Sam hated him, right? Or was that only a partial memory? “It’s just a goat.” He decided to move on, “Um, and that’s Becca, Constance, and Georgie and…”

Steve lit up, “Which ones?”

Bucky smiled shyly, “Come on,” he said leading them inside the goat enclosure. All the goats except for Tonya tried to get within rubbing distance of Bucky. Steve and the others backed off to let the goats swarm around Bucky, and he knelt down to pet each one of them. When Bucky finally looked back at the humans, afraid they’d be angry at the delay in answering Steve’s question, he saw them all smiling.

Bucky cleared his throat, “Yes, this is Winnifred, and these are Becca, Constance, and Georgie.”

Sam laughed, “Dang, you weren’t dating four women at once, were you?” 

Bucky’s smile was sad, “They were my mother and my sisters.”

“Oh.” Sam said, “Sorry man, I forgot.”

Steve’s smile turned sad, “They’d be happy you remembered them.” Bucky nodded. 

“And those are Thomasina and Connie.”

“Connie Oswald?” Steve asked, and Bucky nodded. Steve turned to Sam, “Connie was a girlfriend.”

“No she wasn’t,” Bucky said, wincing.

“Yeah?” Steve asked. 

Bucky shook his head, “But you know, if I’d made it back from the war…..” He shrugged, “Maybe.” He’d woken up one night remembering her bright smile.

“Was Thomasina also a girlfriend?” Natasha asked.

“No, Toro was a friend,” Bucky looked up from the goats, “Toro was short for Thomas.”

Steve nodded, remembering, “Toro was a great friend of yours.”

“And then that’s Ebbets and Dodger, and that’s Brooklyn behind them.”

“Ebbets? Who’s that for?” Natasha asked

“The field,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded, “I approve.”

Natasha thought a moment, “American football?” The men looked at her, and she shrugged, “It was a good guess, Americans like it.”

Bucky shook his head, “Baseball.”

“And who’s Dodger?” Natasha asked.

“Brooklyn Dodgers, best team ever,” Bucky said.

Natasha shrugged, “Oh. Me, I like the real football, not the American one.”

“She means soccer,” Sam said.

Natasha shook her head, “Football; yours is American football.” She looked back at the goats, “I like them,” Natasha said, nudging Steve.

“What? Yes, very nice,” Steve said.

“You want to see something?” Bucky asked. They nodded, and he got down on his hands and knees. Various goats took turns standing on his back, and Bucky smiled as he felt little hooves on his back; he loved it when they did that.

“Breakfast!” Eshe called, and Bucky suddenly realized having goats stand on his back might not have been the most exciting thing for his friends to watch, but he hadn’t known what else to do.

Of course, breakfast brought other problems. Bucky knew he did something wrong when he ate, but no one had corrected him. Breakfast was omelets with beans and sambaza fish. They’d decided that combination when they thought they’d eat before Steve arrived, and Bucky hoped he didn’t mind. If he’d known Steve would be here, he would have suggested a breakfast from Before. At least Eshe had enough for everyone, and she already made it look like they’d always planned to have guests for breakfast. 

“Oh no, we’re fine, we already ate,” Steve said, waving away the food that was being brought to him. Eshe looked mightily offended, and Steve nodded and began eating with a chagrined smile. Eshe also brought out orange juice and coffee with cream. Steve’s smile deepened when he saw both. He took the orange juice and made a toast with Bucky, “To our mothers.”

“You remember them?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s smile didn’t falter, “Yes.”

“I do too,” Bucky said, “Don’t think I didn’t.”

“I know you did.”

“The children will take care of the goats today, Bucky,” Shuri told Bucky, and Shuri knew she was practicing not calling him by his rank. “Spend time with your friends.” Bucky was glad he’d gotten his goat-time in already.

After breakfast, everyone but Steve somehow disappeared, and Sam and Natasha were walking along the lake. “I hope you don’t mind this place,” Bucky told Steve. He couldn’t bear if Steve didn’t like this place, it would mean he was doing it all wrong.

“Forget about me, do you?”

Bucky didn’t want to admit he loved it. He enjoyed staring at the lake. Working with the goats was good, physical work, and he felt warm inside when they ran to rub against him and let him pet them. He was calmed by the sunsets and the sounds and the smell on the breeze when it came off the lake. He loved the laughter of the children and knowing that they teased him because they enjoyed being with him. The food was wonderful and the fires friendly at night. He liked going to the village for weekly dinners, and he cherished the growing feeling that he was connecting to people and making his own decisions. But he was afraid to say what he really felt. “This place is okay.”

“I’ve brought the movies that came too late to see,” Steve said. Bucky smiled. “And some reading material from our time, but only when you’re ready.”

Bucky frowned, “People say that a lot to me.”

“Well, you’re healing.”

“I only talk to a Life Coach, you know, everyone could use a little help.”

“I know.” Steve said, and Bucky hoped he didn’t know too much. The silence between them grew awkward. “You talk so much about the children, I look forward to meeting them.” Bucky nodded. Steve smiled, “And eating bacon bananas.” Bucky smiled back, and Steve got a faraway look, “Ma said bananas were exotic at the turn of the century.”

“My grandmother made banana cream pie,” Bucky said, trying to keep it from being a question.

Steve smiled broadly, “Oh did she! She knew how to make her pies, and we knew how to beg for an extra piece.”

“They make banana cream pie here, but it’s different. Good, but different. Lots of things are different here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s better than I deserve.”

“What you deserve is the best life ever.”

“Oh please.” Bucky didn’t want to argue, and he looked down. Steve seemed to get the hint and fell silent. Bucky stared at the wall and said quietly, “I hope you won’t be disappointed here.”

“How could I be disappointed? You’re here, and I get some time off,” Steve said. “Personally, this is a great place; I love Wakanda.”

“My best friends are children and their mothers.”

“That’s not a bad place to start. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Friendship is to be treasured no matter where you find it.”

“And goats.”

“Well, now you have a problem.” They smiled.

“Do you remember my family having a piano?” Bucky asked, belatedly wondering if it were acceptable to change the conversation like that.

Steve smiled, “Of course. That good old, upright Baldwin.” Bucky’s eyes shot up, and Steve said, “Your father bought it for your mother in, what? Yeah, 1909 when their marriage was rocky, not that they ever said as much; she loved playing it.”

It was creepy that Steve knew more about his parents than he did. “But I remember someone crying.”

Steve nodded, “Your mother would play four-hand with Becca, but Constance wanted to play, too. There weren’t that many pieces for six hands, and anyway, Constance was so young, your mother would play a piece with Becca, and then an easier one with Constance, and then an even easier one with Georgie. We used to love to sit and listen because your mother played so beautifully.”

“Huh,” Bucky said, eyes far away, trying to remember. So many conflicting memories. “If we liked it, why did we sell it?”

Steve shrugged, “The Depression; it happened.” Now Bucky remembered. They’d held onto it for as long as they could, hoping the economy would turn, but by the time they sold it, no one was willing to pay much for it; they were desperate and sold it anyway. His sisters cried buckets, and his mother went around the house depressed.

“Hey, you should see the lake,” Sam said, peaking in.

Sam was hit from behind, “You were supposed to peek in and then speak,” said Natasha’s voice from outside the hut.

So they walked around the lake. Bucky loved looking at the waves. “Do you know every tree around here?” Sam asked.

“I’ve walked for hours around this lake,” Bucky said, “I still don’t remember what the trees are called.”

Sam pointed, “Well that’s at least a fern,” he paused, “I think.”

“Cheat,” Natasha said, looking at her kimoyo bead. She pressed one of her kimoyo beads into a leaf, and nodded as she read the information. She let the leaf rebound away and studied the fern with her hands on her hips, pursing her lips in concentration before saying, “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that’s an Alsophila manniana.” Everyone shook their heads. “Notice the spines on the trunk.”

“We can take walks in the forest,” Bucky said, “Butterflies and such.” He sighed and decided to tell the truth, “I don’t know what you guys want to do.”

“Do you walk in the forest?” Steve asked.

“Exactly once,” Bucky said, and that had been because Shuri suggested it.

“So what do you do?” Steve asked.

That had been the question Bucky had been dreading. He sighed, “Not much.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha said. “It’s relaxing.”

“I go to the village,” Bucky said, “Sope and Winna are great cooks.”

Sam lit up, “He’s visiting the ladies!”

“I’m right here,” Bucky said sharply, and everyone paused.

Sam frowned, “I know that.” Bucky brushed away the panic of handlers talking around him as he sat in the Chair.

“Who are Sope and Winna again?” Steve asked.

“The mothers,” Bucky said. Everyone nodded, and Bucky had the feeling Steve asked only to change the tone of the conversation.

Lunch was fufu and grilled pork. Bucky smiled, “I love fufu.” 

Sam and Natasha paused, “I’ve had fufu before,” Sam said, and neither looked too happy.

Steve apparently hadn’t had it before and looked ready to use a fork, but Bucky said, “Pull off some dough about like a quarter, roll it into a ball, and then made an indentation with your thumb like so, and then dip it in the sauce. See how it catches?” Bucky popped it in his mouth and realized the sauce was the bacon, mushroom, and thyme sauce. 

Sam made his own, “Dang, this is way better!”

Shuri nodded, adding _pili pili_ to hers. “It’s Wakandan fufu.” She held out the _pili pili_ , “Anyone want this?”

“What is it?” Steve said, politely putting some on his food.

“No, Steve,” was all Bucky had time to say.

Steve took a bite, and then his eyes went wide and began to water. He grabbed the nearest drink (it was Natasha’s) and drank it down. As that didn’t help, he slathered his mouth with plain fufu. 

“Are you all right?” Shuri asked, puzzled.

“You want Sam’s drink too?” Natasha asked; Sam frowned.

“Sorry about that,” Bucky said, “But you know your enhanced stomach should be able to take it,” Bucky said.

“Yes, but my taste buds aren’t enhanced.”

“They are because they’re a part of your body,” Bucky said, “It’s just your brain that isn’t because you’re being stupid.” Bucky’s eyes widened as he realized what he just said, but Steve threw his head back and laughed.

“Point to Bucky,” Sam said. Bucky kept himself from apologizing profusely.

Bucky had no idea what to do after lunch. They’d met the goats and walked by the lake. They couldn’t meet the children because they were in school, they couldn’t meet the elders because they were busy and Shuri suggested that for tomorrow, and he hoped they never met the psychiatrist.

“So what do you do after lunch?” Steve asked.

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“If we didn’t come today, what would you have done?” Steve asked.

“Don’t push him,” Sam whispered, but of course Bucky heard it.

“I’m not dumb, I was going to do something,” Bucky said.

“I know you were,” Steve said.

“I really was,” Bucky said.

“So what were you going to do?” Natasha asked.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it. “I was going to bake cookies.” Everyone paused.

“That’s great, we can help you,” Steve said with false cheer.

“For the goats.”

Everyone froze for a second before Steve recovered, “I’ve never made cookies for goats before, sounds fun.”

So they walked over to Eshe’s cooking area. “Can I help you Bucky?” Eshe asked, sitting by a fire with a simmering pot. 

“Yes, I’m almost out of goat cookies,” Bucky said. It was his most pressing issue.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Eshe said, helping Bucky get out the oats, whole flour, and molasses. “What seeds did you want?” The two worked around each other with ease.

“Black oil sunflowers,” Bucky said, before turning to Steve and the others, “Jafari says it makes their coats shinier and increases the butterfat in their milk.” They stared at him, and he paused, “Jafari is Eshe’s husband.” They still stared at him.

“Anything else?” Eshe asked.

“Maybe some alfalfa and some apples.”

Eshe nodded, “They really liked that combination.” She got out a little peanut butter and some water and then sat down to watch her pot again.

So they watched Bucky bake cookies for goats. “I’m not supposed to give them treats every day,” Bucky said as they baked. “It makes them fat.” He counted how many cookies he was making, “Maybe I should make more.”

Sam shook his head, “Dude, this looks like a triple batch already.” Natasha calmly stood on his foot.

Dinner included a colorful rice-and-meat dish they’d only had a few times, but Bucky loved it. “Nice,” Sam said.

Bucky nodded, “Jeweled Vegetable Pilau With Berbere Braised Lamb.”

Eshe gave Steve a separate portion, “This one’s less spicy.” Bucky hid a smirk; she used to do that for him.

They also ate river prawns in garlic and pili pili butter sauce (Steve got a simple garlic and butter sauce), and plantain stew with slow cooked peanut sauce.

That night, they had a fire, and Bucky introduced everyone. “You’ve met Eshe, and this is her husband Jafari; we talk about goats.” They shook hands. “This is Tamrat, their son, and Bahati, their daughter. Tamrat is studying Environmental Design, which somehow includes physics, and Bahati is an astronomer.” Bucky turned to Steve, “Do not ask her to show you the solar system, it will really depress you.”

Steve frowned, “Why?”

“You won’t recognize it; they have a thousand planets and everything has rings now. Oh, and did you know they have a colony on a freaking alien planet?”

Steve blinked, “Really?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sam said.

Bahati beamed, “I’ll show you.” She looked at Bucky, “Without showing the current solar family.” Bucky nodded. “We can also go star gazing if you’d like.” She looked back at Bucky, “We won’t translate the constellations.”

“Why not?” Natasha asked.

“The Panther constellation includes part of Hydra,” Bucky said, “I prefer to think of them destroying Hydra to create their Panther.” 

Shuri turned to Eshe, “What’s for dessert this time?”

Eshe brought out cut up fruit and skewers, “We have mango, pineapple, peaches, bananas, and figs.” They looked dusted with sugar.

“I see we’re going for a healthy dessert,” Tamrat said.

“And here’s the dipping chocolate.”

“Oh, good,” Tamrat said, “We’re okay.”

Bahati jutted out her jaw at her brother, “Pay attention to your food this time.” She turned to Steve and the others, “He burns his food in the fire.”

Tamrat spread his hands wide, “What can I say? A reputation that’s well earned.” He put his fruit skewer near the fire to grill and then glanced at Shuri before looking at the newcomers. He spoke louder than he had to, “So Shuri would like to take you on an excruciatingly in-depth walk to study the different waves of the lake. She finds it fascinating.”

“Shut up!” Shuri said. The Wakandans and Bucky began laughing. Shuri got up into Tamrat’s face and jutted her jaw at him, “Watch your food.”

Bucky smiled and told his friends, “Shuri is… she likes the lake well enough but she finds it a little, calm, shall we say?”

“Then why do you come here?” Sam asked.

“Wakandans feel nature is very restorative,” Shuri explained, and Tamrat guffawed. Shuri shrugged, “I just restore a little quicker than others.” Tamrat shook his head with a smile and tut-tutted.

“Um, Tamrat,” Bahati said. Tamrat looked at his fruit, which was close to burning.

“Ha ha,” Shuri said, still pretending to be miffed. Bucky smiled, not threatened at all.

They talked. Tamrat and Bahati asked questions about America, and Steve and the others asked questions of them.

Bucky realized he hadn’t told his friends what would happen during the night, but he remembered being nervous the first time he’d come out for a fire. “After we talk and have dessert, we’ll sing.” Bucky shrugged, “Well, they sing, I clap along, and that’s okay.”

“Are the songs hard to learn?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t feel like singing.” His friends looked sad, but he didn’t know why. Steve and Sam sang the choruses on the first night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wakandan Jeweled Vegetable Pilau With Berbere Braised Lamb (Narrated By Black Panther: Long Live The King Author Nnedi Okorafor). https://buzzfeedtasty.tumblr.com/post/171392432275/wakandan-jeweled-vegetable-pilau-with-berbere


	34. The Children and the Elders

The next day, three children’s faces appeared hovering over him as he woke up, and then they ran away giggling, but Bucky was ready for them, and he squirted them with a hidden water container as they ran away, now yelping and giggling even more. Bucky smiled.

Bucky got ready quickly, not stopping for a luxuriously long shower. Then he ducked his head out the hut and saw the children were playing close by, “Hey, who wants to help me put my hair up?”

“I do! I do!” the children said. 

His friends were already waiting on the low wall for breakfast. Steve’s eyes widened slightly as he took in Bucky’s hair, but he nodded and smiled.

“Nice hair,” Natasha said.

Bucky paused. Why did that make him pleased? Or was he feeling shy? He wasn’t sure, so he sat by Steve. Because they knew Steve and the others would be here today, breakfast was from Before: oatmeal with dates, bacon, muffins and butter, coffee, milk, and orange juice. There were different muffins to choose from: banana, papaya, mango, pineapple, tamarind, butterfruit (also called an African bush pear or plum), and ber fruit (also called jujube).

The children had followed Bucky, and now they greeted his friends. “Hello,” they said, reaching out for their handshake, and they introduced themselves.

“What do you have for breakfast?” Thabo asked, even though it was obvious.

“Didn’t your mothers feed you?” Shuri asked.

“No,” they chorused, sounding innocent. 

Thabo eyed the muffins, but Shuri asked, “Do you want some oatmeal?” They shook their heads, because of course, they had eaten, they just wanted sweet muffins.

“May I have a tamarind muffin?” Thabo finally asked, very polite and innocent.

Shuri tossed her head to the side, “Eh!” But she gave them the basket of muffins.

“So do you like school?” Steve asked the children. They nodded. “What grade are you in?” He paused, “I actually don’t know that much about education here.”

“We’re in primary school,” they said.

“What’s your favorite subject?”

Bucky sighed, “Don’t ask, Steve.”

Thabo was already talking, “I just discovered how to determine the area of a triangle yesterday. They say you don’t really understand math until you discover it yourself. Would you like to hear the latest Thabo’s Theorem for Determining Area?” Steve, Sam, and Natasha froze in the middle of eating. 

“No one wants to learn your latest theorem,” Zani said, rolling her eyes. “I like history and science and story time.”

Lencho said, “I like lunch, language and literature, science and field trips.”

“I also like technology and social science,” Thabo said.

“And art,” Zani said.

Steve lit up, “What’s your favorite medium?”

“I like mask making,” Zani said, “But I also like sculpture.” She recognized Steve’s interest, “You?”

“Drawing and painting.”

“I like painting,” Lencho said. 

Steve smiled, “We’ll have to find some time to paint together.” Lencho beamed.

When they had finished breakfast, Zani announced, “We have to show you planet Bucky!” 

Bucky sighed, but inside, he was pleased and wondered how his planet was doing.

“Planet Bucky?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, looking down and shrugging before meeting Steve’s eyes, “They have this make-your-own-solar-system thing. It’s holographic.”

“And you named a planet after yourself,” Sam said. Bucky shook his head.

“I did,” Zani said. “But it’s his planet. Come on, you have to see it.”

So they walked to the learning hut and Steve and the others ogled it as Zani went up to the solar system area and turned Bucky’s solar system on.

“Wow,” Steve said, looking at it.

“Go on, tell them about your solar family,” Zani told Bucky.

“Okay,” Bucky said, pointing to his system, “Well, the sun is a red dwarf, which unfortunately made it impossible for Zani to develop life on the planet. This is Luna, and the sun’s name is Lux.”

“You have a planet named Luna?” Sam said.

“Yeah, about that,” Bucky shrugged, “It started as a moon.”

“Lux for light?” Steve asked, “Original.” Bucky shrugged.

“Bucky!” Zani gasped, hitting him repeatedly on the arm. “You have life!”

“What?” Bucky asked, trying to see the readings on her kimoyo bead, so she flung it above her bead so everyone could see. 

“You have life! See? Microbes take in energy starting in the infrared.”

Zani translated the hologram with dancing letters, “This is to certify that the planet Bucky has microbial life in caves on the dark side of the planet. The microbes take in energy from a wide variety of spectra but especially in the infrared. Well done!” He smiled inside: his planet had life. What was this feeling? Hope? Warmth?

He roused himself, “I’m glad it’s not on the sun side; the flares shouldn’t get it.” He paused, “Is it underwater besides being in the caves?” That would help protect against flares. Zani checked and nodded, and they both smiled, relieved. Bucky couldn’t face it if the life died.

His friends were staring at him again.

“It’s been so hard to get life, I’m afraid we’ll lose it. Lux was shooting out flares several times a day in the beginning,” Bucky said, “It caused UV radiation to skyrocket, and it could turn Lux blue for several minutes instead of red. Those flares sterilized the planet, and it could’ve taken out the atmosphere, but Zani asked Bahati how to hang on to the atmosphere.”

“Without it turning into a greenhouse,” Zani said.

“Really? How did you do that?” Steve asked, sounding a little dazed.

“We needed a strong magnetic field to keep the atmosphere,” Bucky said, “But if you’re tidally locked like we are, you spin slower, which means a weak magnetic field, so we made the planet more massive than Earth so it could have a larger liquid iron core.” Zani nodded.

“You seem to know your astronomy,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged, but Zani beamed, “I’m a good teacher.”

“Whoa,” her brother said, “Bahati is.”

“So introduce us to the rest of your solar system,” Natasha said.

“We needed a gas giant to be a sort of vacuum cleaner for the solar system; mine is Giganticus.”

“Original,” Sam said.

He shrugged, “It has several moons with similarly original names: Tiny, Rocklet, and Flying Mountain.”

“What’s this big one?” Natasha asked.

“Smars,” Bucky said. “I wanted a planet with Martian canals, but that didn’t work, so I have a moon with ice canals. The name started as Icemars.”

“Sounds like s’mores,” Sam said.

“A what?” Bucky asked.

Steve studied the moon with a smile, “This is really detailed.”

Bucky nodded. He had spent a lot of time mapping the surface. Sam wasn’t impressed, “Uh huh,” Sam said, pointing at a plain at random, “So what’s this called, huh?”

“Acidalia Planitia,” Bucky told him.

“Dang, you do know your stuff,” Sam said.

“The canyon south of it is Vallis Marineris,” Bucky said, purely to spite Sam, but Sam looked impressed instead of ticked.

“So what’s this one called?” Sam asked, pointing to Pluto.

“Pluto,” Bucky said, “I always picture it at the edge of the system, so I made it that way here.”

“But it is on the edge of the system,” Steve said, and Bucky was glad he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t known it wasn’t.

Bucky continued, “I’ve given it three moons, Minerva, Proserpina, and Nyx.”

Steve looked blank for a minute and then lit up, “I remember! Oh, Bucky.”…

“What?” Sam and Natasha said together.

Bucky felt a pang but managed a small smile anyway, “My sisters were excited when they discovered Pluto, but it hadn’t been named yet, so Becca and my mother came up with names.”

Zani looked at their guests and piped up, “Do you want solar families?”

“No, that’s all right.” Natasha told her.

“What would you have?” Zani asked Natasha, trying to draw her out. 

Natasha shrugged, but Sam said, “I know what Nat would have, a binary system where there’s a dim star far away that no one knows about, and then it appears from nowhere, swoops into the system, and causes mayhem.”

Thabo’s eyes grew wide, “Cool, I’ll have to get me one.”

At breakfast the next day, Bucky began prepping his friends for visiting the elders. “Okay, the younger greets the elder here, so don’t wait for them to greet you.”

Sam paused, “Do you realize you and Steve are older than them?” 

Bucky frowned, “I greeted them and they liked it. Also, don’t stare at them, and they were impressed at how much distance I keep, too, so.…”

Sam nodded, “Distance means respect here, am I right?” Bucky nodded, and Sam continued, “And close distance is only for good friends.” 

“Yeah, I don’t like getting close,” Bucky said. Getting close was for assassins. For some reason, Steve looked sad.

Before they left to visit the elders, Bucky brought along bottles of White Elephant and his best goat cheese. “What’s in the bottles?” Natasha asked.

“Rum, coconut, and goat milk,” Bucky said. On the way to the village, they practiced long Wakandan greetings.

The elders sat in robes under awnings, and Bucky greeted them in his best Wakandan. Each of his friends did their best to do the same, except for Nat, who gave a respectful greeting that was shorter than the one Bucky knew. Bucky raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled, “Yours was too long, I asked Shuri for another.” Bucky frowned; why hadn’t Shuri given him the shortest respectful greeting? The red-head shrugged, “I just told her I wanted a shorter greeting.”

That night, Bucky had a dream about soulless little girls staring at him in a row before they turned into pointe shoes that twirled, leapt, and turned out; then a group of people appeared and the shoes shot everyone in sight with Barrett M82A1Ms. Bucky woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The astronauts in “the Martian,” including Sebastian Stan’s Chris Beck, explore Acidalia Planitia. As I have no idea where that is, I mention Vallis Marineris (huge feature) so you can picture it. :-)


	35. Movies

Bucky continued to have to come up with things to do each day. “What do you want to do today?” Steve asked.

“Why do I always have to decide?” He was tired of it.

“Fine, do you want to see a movie?”

Bucky sighed, “Sure.”

“Which? I have…”

“Any.”

Steve paused, and Bucky knew he’d make a mistake. Steve listed the titles, “Flash Gordon, Dodge City, Stagecoach, Adventures of Robin Hood, Charge of the Light Brigade, Treasure Island, Captain Blood, Mark of the Vampire, and Bride of Frankenstein.” Bucky noticed Steve had not included Ox-bow Incident, the movie where a posse kill innocent men, although Bucky was pretty sure Steve had ordered it.”Do you feel like any of those?”

In truth, Bucky didn’t. Adventure didn’t sound appealing, and neither did horror. And he was living in the future, so science fiction was out. Didn’t they watch anything else? Besides film noir and hardboiled crime dramas, which didn’t sound appealing, either. 

“I also have some Rita Hayworth movies.”

Now that sounded promising. 

Steve smiled, “Cover Girl and You’ll Never Get Rich.” The latter included an army base. 

“Do you have You Were Never Lovelier?” Rita Hayworth danced with Fred Astaire but it didn’t include the army.

“No, but I’ll get it.”

Bucky thought a moment, “Then Cover Girl will do for now.”

Steve told Sam and Natasha, “We’re going to watch Cover Girl, it’s got dancing, music, and what else? Costumes if you’re into that.”

“And a nice ending,” Bucky said.

“Okay, what kind of dancing?” Sam asked.

“It’s Rita Hayworth and Gene Kelly.”

They all watched it and enjoyed plantain chips, candied peanuts, and mini Mandazis,which were fried doughnut bites with grated coconut, cardamon and nutmeg. It was exactly what Bucky needed.

Steve smiled as he saw how relaxed Bucky was, and when Sam and Natasha left, he leaned over, “I have another movie of hers; it has a well written scene.” 

Bucky immediately knew he wasn’t talking about the writing. “Which movie is this?”

“It didn’t come out until after we left, it’s called Gilda. It’s film noir.” Bucky’s heart sank, his life was film noir and he didn’t need it in his entertainment. “But this movie made her a cultural icon as a femme fatale.” Bucky’s eyes shot up and he decided it was worth it.

“OK,” Bucky said.

Steve left with a smile and came back with popcorn. “I got Eshe to pop this.” It was yellow popcorn, the kind you would buy in theaters, not the white that you’d buy for home. Steve shrugged, “All I can find in the States now is yellow.”

“Huh,” Bucky said, “Well, I liked it better anyway.”

Steve settled down, “I haven’t seen this movie yet, either; it’s from 1946.”

They began watching and were amazed by The Scene, and afterwards, they talked about it. “Yeah, I’d make her a cultural icon after that,” Bucky said.

“I’d read that one-glove strip tease was legendary,” Steve blew air out, “Hoo boy, I’d say so.”

“Let’s see it again.”

They were so involved, they didn’t realize Natasha was listening, “Are you guys watching smut?”

“No ma’am,” Steve said, standing up and straightening up.

“You bet,” Bucky said, standing up but not straightening up. Steve looked at Bucky, was he making a joke?

“Don’t you ma’am me,” Natasha told Steve. 

“No ma’am,” Steve said, before smiling sheepishly, and Natasha smiled back with a disbelieving shake of her head.

“You’re doing good Stevie,” Bucky said before blanching at what he’d said.

Steve smiled but said, “Shut up.”

“I gotta see this,” Natasha said, sitting down.

“No,” both of them said, joining her.

Natasha looked at them with wide eyes, acting the ingenue, “Are you afraid of my tender conscience?” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bucky said.

“I read the censors weren’t happy,” Steve said.

“They never are,” Bucky said. “Or were.”

“Fire it up, boys,” Natasha said.

So they watched it again, even though by now it was getting late. Eventually, Rita Hayworth sang a song, lightly swinging her hips occasionally to the music and scrunching up one glove, which she took off. She flipped her hair and eventually threw a glove and then her necklace into the audience. Natasha waited until the number was over and let the two settle down a bit. “Was that it?” Natasha asked.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Bucky said, and Steve just grinned foolishly. Bucky studied Natasha, “You didn’t think much of it, did you?” 

“Let’s say it’s not what I was expecting,” Natasha said drily.

“We have to find a movie you’d like,” Bucky said. “My sisters liked ‘The Old Maid,’ and also ‘The Sisters,’ but…. Do you like historical? Becca did… ‘Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex’ and also ‘Juarez.’”

Steve had been on the receiving end of Natasha’s attempts to find him a date, so he enjoyed saying, “We need to fix you up with, what do you call it? A cute male lead.”

“I’m afraid of who you have to choose from,” Natasha said. “They look so formal, ties and all.” She faced Steve, “You don’t wear a tie.”

Steve shrugged, “This century doesn’t wear them.”

Bucky shook his head, “You could never tie them.”

“I could too, they just looked a little lumpy,” Steve said. “I never got that crease or dimple or whatever you called it, and no matter what knot I used, someone always had to say I’d have done better by using another one.” Steve shook his head, “Pre-made are the way to go.”

“Errol Flynn,” Bucky said, coming back to the first part of the conversation. “Clark Gable too, but I think you’d like Errol Flynn better.”

“Oh yeah? Why?” Natasha asked. “I’m really afraid to find out what you think I’d find sexy.”

“Swash buckling,” Bucky said.

Natasha smiled, “Now you’re talking.”


	36. Life on Planet Bucky

Bucky couldn’t wait to see if life on his planet developed any further. “Bucky, you have life everywhere now! Look, radiophiles that eat radiation and shapeshift when their genome is broken!”

Bucky smiled, for life seemed to find a way.

“And in your cold region you have cryophiles!” Bucky frowned, but Zani was so excited she continued, “They go into cryptobiosis or suspended animation when they get frozen.”

Then Zani felt it. “Did I say something wrong again?”

“No, you’re fine,” he lied quietly, body tense.

“What did I say?” Zani asked.

Bucky shook his head and refused to tell her.

Bucky was quiet when he went back to his hut, and his friends picked up on it immediately. “What’s wrong?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head, but Steve pointed at him, “Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong.”

Bucky sighed, “It’s stupid. I got upset over a game.”

“The life on your planet got killed off,” Sam guessed. “Man, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s flourishing. Is there some reason it has to use suspended animation? Why is it my planet? Zani’s doesn’t have that problem. But no, I get cryophiles. I hate cryo.”

Natasha was on her kimoyo bead, “Call them psychrophiles, it’s the same thing.”

Bucky sighed, “That’s a little better.”

“Is there anything cold you actually like?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, but Steve had an idea, “Ice cream. Chocolate ice cream.” Bucky thought a moment and nodded.

“Okay, the psychrophiles live in the cold, and, are they on land or sea?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said. He hadn’t stayed to find out.

“Well, if they’re on land, think of the ice as like thick ice cream, and if they’re in the sea, think of it as… soft serve. Do you know about soft serve?”

“Of course I know soft serve,” Bucky said.

“I’m sorry that’s the only life you got,” Steve said.

“Well, it wasn’t the only, I also have weirdo life that eats radiation and shapeshifts.”

“Well that’s what you get for choosing a red dwarf,” Sam said, laughing. “What are you going to name it?”

“I’m not naming it,” Bucky said.

“You’re they’re Daddy, you gotta name ‘em,” Sam said.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Fine, but I need more details first.”

He named the psychrophiles Glacies crepito, pleased to name alien life after ice cream. They were Glaciepitos for short. He had several kinds of radiophiles, so he called them Radialem and Amandi Radiorum, and other such names that he got from his kimoyo bead, but his favorite was Calidum Mammas, or Hot Mammas.

Even though his friends were here, he still had time for his goats. He told them his troubles with life on planet Bucky, but they were not disturbed. Perhaps he could be calm about it, too.

Naming goats after his sisters had one bad side effect; it made him depressed. He sat with his goats before meeting up with Steve and the others, and the goats Winnifred, Becca and Stevie nudged their way in front of all the others. “Becca,” Bucky said, addressing the goat and giving her a cookie. “I wish….” Constance and Georgie now nosed their way in for their cookies. “Did you have long, happy lives?” Constance and Georgie had been teenagers last he saw them, and Becca had only been in her early 20’s. The goats rubbed against him, and he petted them. “I love you, you know that?” Bucky could hear someone coming, but he just didn’t care, “I’m sorry for falling off the train and leaving you, but I hope you had better lives without me. I messed up everything.” The goats were more interested in the cookies in his hand than in listening, but Bucky continued, “I wish I had done better by you. I told Steve to look out for you if I didn’t make it back, but he didn’t either. I’m sorry.”

“Buck,” Steve said, coming up.

“I’m talking to my girls here,” Bucky said, before putting his face in his hand, “I talk to goats.”

“Meeh,” the goats said. 

When Bucky turned to face Steve, he saw his friend walking away. Was he angry? “I didn’t mean it,” Bucky said. Talking to goats was so much easier than talking to people.

Steve turned around, “Mean what? I don’t want to bother you while you’re busy.”

“They’re just goats,” Bucky said, getting up, although the goats protested.

“They’re more than that,” Steve said, coming back and sitting down with the goats, so Bucky did too. “Do you got any cookies left?” Bucky broke the remaining cookies in half, and they fed the goats together.

After awhile, Sam joined them. “There you are,” he said. “Did you give out all the cookies already?”

“Pretty much,” Steve said.

Sam shook his head but sat down with them anyway. The cookies were gone, but the goats still loved rubbing against Bucky and even against Steve. “You’re really good with the goats,” Sam said. Bucky ducked his head. “You’ve done a good job here,” Sam said. Bucky froze and stared. “Really. I think if something like what has happened to you had happened to me, well, I wouldn’t trust myself anymore, not about anything.” Sam said, looking at the goats. “And I wouldn’t feel safe, and I’d have to find a way to feel safe again.” Sam shrugged, still not looking at Bucky, “Just sayin’, I think you’re doing an amazing job.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, amazed.


	37. Outside Contact

The next day, he heard people arguing, “I just don’t think he’s ready,” Shuri said. 

“But she could die at any time,” Steve said.

“If they hate his guts or she dies from the shock of seeing him, he’s going to feel ten times worse,” Sam said, “Maria hasn’t gotten back to us.”

“If the American government knows about her, they’ll be watching for him to make contact with her,” Natasha said.

Bucky waited as still as a statue, listening. He was sure they meant him, but he couldn’t imagine who the woman was. “Who are you talking about?” 

They all spun around, “Buck, didn’t see you there,” Steve said needlessly.

“Who’s Maria?”

“Maria Hill, she was second in command in SHIELD,” Natasha said.

“Is SHIELD looking for me?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, “Maria is doing a favor for us.” The group continued their argument in silence using significant looks.

“I’m waiting,” Bucky said.

“How much did you hear?” Shuri asked.

“I don’t like secrets,” Bucky said, “They’re usually deadly.”

“This isn’t deadly,” Shuri said, “You are safe here.”

“What don’t you want me to know? Someone could die at any time and the American government could be involved. They’re looking for me, is this woman a problem?”

“She’s not a problem, Buck,” Steve said quietly.

“Then who is she?” The group looked at him silently, but what made him nervous was they seemed a little sad when they did so.

“I will contact Maria again,” Shuri said, walking off.

Bucky would need food rations, warmth against the cold… he glared at Steve, “You could’ve told me earlier.” He strode away and began collecting what he would need.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said, having followed him. 

“I’m ready,” Bucky said, for he didn’t need much and had most pre-packed anyway just in case. He marched out the hut and made for the trees. Guards followed him silently; they’d make his position more obvious, how could he lose such well-trained guards?

“Where are you going?” Shuri called out, “Wait!” Bucky kept walking. “Fine!” Shuri yelled out, “Run away and miss your sister!” He whipped around and stared at her. “She’s alive, we’re trying to see how to contact her.” Bucky ran for Shuri, nearly tripping over the food supplies he seemed to have dropped in shock. “Rebecca Barnes is still alive.”

“What do you mean she’s alive?” Bucky asked.

“She’s 93 years old.”

Bucky’s legs were weak, “She’s alive?” A knot deep inside him threatened to come loose. “Please, are they all alive?”

“Just Rebecca,” Shuri said, “But we’re seeing if we can contact her.”

Bucky found it hard to concentrate. “She’s alive.” A thought came to him, “I have to see her.”

“Yes, we’re working on that.”

“But she might die, I have to see her.”

“I know,” Shuri said. Steve came up and Shuri turned to him, “Could you help Sgt. Barnes….”

Bucky suddenly felt towering rage, “You kept her from me!” He slugged Steve and the surprised friend went down hard.

“No!” Shuri said.

Steve put his hands up while still on the ground but Bucky raised his wrist to smash the blond man’s face in before staring in horror; he’d seen that beaten-in face before.

Bucky backed up, ran for the hut, and huddled by his bed, rocking back and forth; soothing scents wafted down immediately, startling him before he relaxed.

No one bothered him for a long time, and he was grateful. Becca would be horrified to meet him and ashamed he was her brother. Now he’d shown his true colors in Wakanda; when it was night, he’d run away before they could kick him out.

Steve came in with dinner, and Bucky groaned silently. “You hungry?” Bucky didn’t look up, not wanting to see how badly he’d beaten his friend up. “I’m hungry. Maybe we could eat dinner together.” If Bucky stayed as still as a statue, maybe Steve would leave. “Or not. Shuri says I shouldn’t push you; guess I’m not good at that.” Bucky could hear Steve set the food down, “I guess I’ll leave.”

“Steve,” Bucky called out. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault; we didn’t want to stress you, and we made it worse.”

“She won’t see me, will she?” The American press would be busy branding him the world’s most heinous assassin.

“We don’t know that yet. It’s just that Maria is trying to assess the situation, and Sharon is trying to learn if the government knows about her,” Steve said. Bucky didn’t even care to ask who Sharon was. “We’ve tried to encourage people to think of you as a man out of time, unconnected from any possible family.” He was indeed a man out of time, unconnected, not human. “You know, so we could try to contact her and not lead a trail back here.”

“She’d be better off without me,” Bucky said. “But can I see a picture of her? Is she happy? She’s not all alone, is she?”

“She lives with her granddaughter’s family.”

“That’s good. Is she happy?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky nodded, it was better than he deserved.

“Could you please come and eat this?” Steve asked.

Bucky made the mistake of looking at Steve’s face, “Oh, Steve!”

“It looks worse than it is,” Steve said, “You caught me by surprise.” Steve said, picking at the food, “Hey, look, banana cream pie. Life is uncertain, eat dessert first.”

Steve said it with a smile, but it made sense; if you ate dessert first and German Special Forces came for you during dinner, you’d at least have eaten dessert. “Okay.” He ate dessert first.

Natasha came into the hut, “Sharon says the government has given up watching Mrs. Proctor. Maria has made contact, and she says we can set up a link next week.”

“Next week?” Steve asked, “Why so long?”

Natasha shook her head, “Unknown.”

“A week?” Bucky asked. Becca could die in a week, especially with the strain of meeting him. Why didn’t she want to see him immediately? Was she having to work up her courage? Was she involving the government? He stopped dead. What would he say to her? How could he explain what happened?

The week was utter misery and he waited, asking every day if Becca still lived and why was she waiting a week. No one knew. He couldn’t even face the goats, and the children took care of them, causing Bucky to feel more guilty. 

“If Maria says we can meet, that has to mean Becca is not going to turn on you,” Steve told him, but Bucky knew he was wrong. Why were they waiting a week? He pressed for details of Becca’s life, but nothing helped him. He watched Shuri study him, remembering that Shuri had told the others he wasn’t ready to meet his own sister.

The night before the call, which was somehow through kimoyo bead even though it was to the States - maybe Super Kimoyo Bead? - Bucky couldn’t sleep, and he sat on the floor leaning against a wall. Steve came by, and Bucky jumped. “I know you haven’t eaten all day,” Steve said with a yawn.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Bucky murmured.

“I was asleep, but I know you weren’t, so I woke myself up,” Steve said, “Could you drink this? It’s called a protein drink.”

Bucky sighed. Tomorrow Becca was going to tell him how horrible he was, and now he had made Steve wake up in the middle of the night to give him a protein drink. The least he could do was drink the thing.

So he drank it, nearly gagging. “Thanks,” Steve said, and left with another yawn. The moment his friend was gone, Bucky realized something was in the drink. He was betrayed! His limbs and eyelids grew heavy….

In the morning he woke up slumped against the wall with a crick in his neck, but he was unharmed. Had Steve meant it? Had that been to get him to sleep? He sat there for a moment, wishing the day hadn’t come. How could he face her? Wait! He looked a wreck! He bounded into the shower. He’d never cut his hair! It was a girl’s length - not that he had anything against girls, uh, women. He meant women. What clothes should he wear? Should he dress all in black to show he was mourning his crimes, or would that make him look like an assassin? He hovered over the clothes choices, paralyzed.

Steve came in. “Are you up for breakfast? Oh.” 

“What do I wear?” Bucky asked him, before turning back to stare at the overwhelming clothes choices.

Steve took pity on him and gave him a dark blue outfit from the pile.

He couldn’t face breakfast, and he was too tense to be angry at Steve for making him sleep.

Right before he was to be confronted by Becca, they heard a flyer coming from the city. Shuri smiled, “Right on time.” 

“I thought we would make contact through kimoyo beads,” Bucky said. They walked to the flyer. “But my sister….” Bucky began. 

“It’s fine,” Shuri said, and they greeted the flyer instead of contacting his sister. It was just his luck, after 70 years he had somehow gotten this one chance to meet the sister thought to be dead, but he’d miss it because they had to greet a flyer, and then Becca would never speak to him again.

Out came a Wakandan man with a big smile and a box. “I have a special delivery.” Bucky was pleased Shuri got her special delivery, but if they hurried, they could still be ready for his sister calling.

“Thank you,” Shuri said, smiling broadly. They chatted for a bit while Bucky watched his one chance to see his sister evaporate. After a few ages, the man left, and Shuri walked over to Bucky, “This is for you.” She gave the box to Bucky.

“But….” Bucky began.

“No one knows he’s here,” Natasha said.

“We do,” Shuri said, turning to Bucky, “Are you going to open it?”

“But…” Bucky said. He decided for one try at seeing his sister, “I’m sure it’s wonderful, but can I see my sister first?”

“It’s from your sister,” Shuri said, “She gave it to Maria, and Maria contacted us.”

Bucky found his hands shaking. Was it a bomb? A hate-filled letter? 

“That’s wonderful,” Steve said, sounding excited but somehow very far away. Bucky couldn’t focus on the hands nudging him to open the box. He opened the box: wrapped caramels spilled out. “I’ve got them,” Steve’s unseen voice said. More wrapped caramels stayed in the box; they were the packing. He unwrapped the gift inside the box: cookies, peanut butter, each one with the criss-cross fork pattern.

Bucky looked up, confused, but Steve was smiling, “I think she made them for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, let’s ask her.” Steve said. Bucky looked down at the cookies; did his sister press a fork in that cookie? He touched the cookie.

“I’ve got a signal,” Shuri said. “I’m going to turn this on and then run away. Steve, to turn it off when you’re done, do this.”

“Got it.”

Bucky looked up from the cookie as the signal came to life. 

“Are you there?” a woman’s voice said as her dark-haired holographic form hovered over the kimoyo bead.

“Hi Maria,” Steve said.

“Okay,” Maria said, “I don’t see any surveillance over here.” She turned to someone, “I’m going to the other room now. To turn it off when you’re done, do this.”

Another woman nodded, before turing to someone else, “Do you want me to stay, grandma?” Bucky couldn’t hear anything else - grandma. 

Suddenly, an older woman was in view. “Bucky?” All thoughts disappeared. A tiny 3D head and torso appeared in the air in full color. Her brown hair was white now but as short as he remembered. She’d gotten her hair done so that it curled; he knew it never stayed curled like that. She wore pearls, and the buttons down her shirtwaist/blouse were medium-sized; Becca hated the big ones. Her eyes caught him and he froze.

A pain deep inside him threatened to come up, and then another. Deep knots that were fused with his insides rumbled and threatened to surface. Dimly he realized she was crying. “Bucky,” she said between wails. He couldn’t say anything, his insides were threatening to come out.

“It’s okay, grandma,” a female voice that wasn’t Becca said.

It was endless, and then she was gone.

“Noooooo,” Bucky said, folding in on himself. “Nooooo.”

“It’s all right, Bucky,” Steve said, “We’ll contact her again soon.”

“Becca,” Bucky said. If he stared long enough, would she reappear?

“You can talk to her next time, it’s okay,” Steve said.

Bucky roused, “Where did she go?”

“We can’t talk long, it’s a safety precaution, but we can do it again.” The painful knots threatened to come up again. He held his stomach. He wanted to hold his mouth but even the thought of having his own hand covering his mouth panicked him. “Are you in pain?” Steve asked. “Um, Shuri?”

The knots were definitely coming out. He made a retching sound but nothing came up. Wave after wave of knots threatened to come out, but nothing did. Finally, a low wail, and then he was lost in sorrow and pain, and somewhere far away he heard someone keening over and over again.

He woke up in his bed in his hut. Steve was sleeping right by him in a cot he’d brought in. Bucky felt spent and lay there dully, watching Steve sleep. It took him a long time to realize he was being watched, and even longer to care. He turned to find Natasha watching him from the door of the hut. “How are you feeling?” Natasha asked.

He had no idea. “Tired.”

“Then go back to sleep.” He did.

Steve was watching him the next time he woke up. Steve smiled to see him awake, so he decided to stay awake. Besides, he had a mission. “Can we contact Becca again?” Steve nodded. “What did she say? I don’t remember.” He was such a dolt.

Steve paused, “Not much actually, she was crying and you were just sitting there hunching over more and more.”

“Pathetic.”

“Well, you haven’t seen each other for 70 years and thought the other was dead.”

“She hates me.”

“She sent you cookies.”

He’d forgotten about the cookies! His sister had baked him cookies for the first time in 70 years and he had callously ignored them. 

“Eshe put them in an airtight container and said that will help them keep,” Steve said, reading his thoughts. 

Bucky wanted to hold one, but he didn’t want to ruin them. “Should we eat them now?”

“Well, Becca did say she sent them so you could eat them together, but don’t worry, she wasn’t eating any cookies, either, she was too busy crying,” Steve said.

“Does she want to see me again?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded before eyeing Bucky carefully, “Are you up to it?”

“Of course I am.” Just thinking about his sister made his insides want to come out.


	38. Hello, Bucky

They tried again. “Hello, Bucky,” his sister told him before starting to sniff mightily. “I haven’t said that for years.” Bucky could feel himself hunching over and knots threatened to come up. 

“Are you going to answer her back?” Steve prompted.

Yes, that’s what he’d do. “Hello,” Bucky said, but that was the wrong thing to do and a sob came out. He balled his hand. 

“You look beautiful,” Becca said.

Tears stung his eyes, “You, you.” He couldn’t even say how beautiful she looked.

“Handsome,” Becca said, smiling in a jerky fashion, “I mean handsome. Are you doing all right?” Bucky nodded, and Becca smiled a little more broadly, catching Bucky in total shock. “I’m glad Steve is with you. He’s bigger now, like you said.” Bucky didn’t remember doing that, but he suddenly pictured writing a letter. She smiled briefly at Steve before concentrating on her brother. “Are you okay? You haven’t spoken yet.”

“Fine,” Bucky said, managing to quench another sob.

“I don’t know where you are and don’t want to know, but you’re safe, right?” Becca asked, and Bucky nodded. Becca glanced up at Steve, too, for reassurance, before saying, “The newspapers have terrible pictures of you, but you’ve gotten some sun now and your hair is nice and glossy.”

“And you?” Bucky asked.

“Am I fine?” she guessed, “Yes.”

“Safe?”

She blinked, “Yes. I’ve got my granddaughter and great-grandchildren.”

Bucky straightened up, “Your what?”

Becca smiled, “You know you’re a great-grand uncle? She laughed at Bucky’s slack jaw. He suddenly felt very old. Becca continued, “My son lives in Florida, but I live with my granddaughter and great-grandchildren.”

“Where do you live?” Bucky asked.

“Paramus,” Becca said.

“New Jersey?” Bucky asked, and Becca nodded. What was it with New Jersey? “I left Shelbyville to live with my granddaughter,” she said.

“It’s important to have family.” The knots threatened again. He pushed through, “What about Constance and Georgie?”

Becca sighed deeply, “Constance married Patrick O’Toole. I don’t remember if they were dating by the time you left.” Bucky didn’t remember either, but then, it was hard to concentrate. 

“Patrick was your friend,” Steve said. Bucky still didn’t remember him. 

Becca was surprised but continued, “She lived a full life; she got me involved in the National Organization for Women and everything, but she died in 2007.” A knife pierced Bucky’s gut and he hunched. “Georgie married a man named Tom Paine. She had a houseful of pets with her children, worked for her causes, and she died in 2011.” Georgie had been a teenager when he’d last seen her.

“Before or after October?” Steve asked suddenly.

“Before,” Becca said. “Why?”

Steve nodded, “I just missed her, that’s when I woke up.”

“I wish you could’ve seen her,” Becca whispered.

“Me, too,” Steve said.

Bucky had been in the States in 1991 busy murdering the Starks. Why couldn’t he have broken free of his programming? He could have seen his sisters again. But did he have Russian handlers when he was in the States and killed the Starks, or was it a one-time thing? He was confused “What about Jack?” Bucky asked.

Becca smiled sadly, and Bucky knew her husband was also dead, “He died in 1994; I miss him, dear soul.” Bucky paused. If he asked her questions, he could listen to her speak, but the death was getting to him. “Is anyone alive?”

“That you knew? Well, we’re old, you and I.” Becca said, “But let me tell you about your nephew. Michael would love to meet you….”

Baby Michael was now in his 70s and living in retirement housing in Florida with his wife. Becca told him about her grandchildren, and Bucky really wanted to learn all about them, but he got mesmerized over her voice and realized he hadn’t been paying attention. He asked just enough questions to be able to hear her speak. 

“But I’m doing all the talking,” Becca said.

Bucky tried to remember what she’d said. “Did you say your great granddaughters were Madison and something else?”

Becca nodded, “Makayla, yes.”

Bucky paused, trying to remember a newfangled name like Makayla before going on to his question, “Isn’t Madison a boy’s name?”

“No,” Becca said. 

Was she angry at him? “I’m sorry.”

“It can be either.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Bucky said, desperate for her to like him.

“Look, I’m doing all the talking. Can I hear your voice?” Becca asked.

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“How can you ask that? Because I thought you were dead!”

“Why don’t you think I’m a monster?” the question was out before he could stop it.

“The press has condemned you, but I haven’t heard your side,” Becca said, “Besides, Steve is with you, and he’s a good man,” Bucky looked away. “But that still doesn’t let me hear you talking.”

“I’m really sorry but we need to start ending the call,” Steve said.

Becca put her hands on her hips, “James Buchanan Barnes, I’ve done all the talking and now it’s your turn.”

A smile flitted on his lips, “I need to keep it quick to keep Steve happy.” He frowned, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you have what you need there?” Becca asked, wistful or anxious or something, Bucky couldn’t tell.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said.

Becca didn’t like his answer, and he wracked his brains to say something else. She beat him to it, “Is it just you and Steve there, or do you have other friends?” 

“There’s a few others.”

“I’m glad. Do you like them?”

Bucky nodded, and he was relieved when she smiled.

“We can call again later,” Steve said, trying to end it.

“The cookies!” Becca said.

“Next time,” Steve said.

It was the third time Becca was able to say, “We’re going to start with eating the cookies. When I knew I was going to meet you, I wished we could meet face to face, and when we couldn’t, I thought, ‘What would I do if we were face to face?’ I would bake cookies.” Becca smiled, “This way we can still do something together.”

So they looked at each other’s hologram and ate cookies together. Neither spoke. Bucky imagined his sister making the very cookies he was eating.

“This time you’re doing most of the talking,” Becca said with a gleam in her eye. “I don’t want to hear anything that would tell me where you are, but tell me about your day. What did you do today?”

He thought a moment, “I got out of bed….” but he had made the decision to get up, “I took a shower, I picked the clothes on top of the pile, and I ate as much food as I wanted,” Bucky said. All in all, a good day. “I did some chores…” that was the wood chopping and some quality goat-time. “I stared at the lake…. we have a lake, but that’s not saying where I am…. oh, and I talked with Steve and the others.” 

Becca nodded slowly, “Good.”

“I helped children with their chores, too,” Bucky said. Or maybe they were helping him with his. That was the goat-herding.

“Are you going to help them with their homework later?” Steve asked with a smile.

“No, they know more than me,” Bucky said, “But later I will sort of play with them,” as in later he would go to the Learning Hut to check up on his solar system.

Becca hadn’t been certain about what he’d said at first, but she liked that. “You always helped me with my homework.” Bucky stared at her, not remembering that. He had hoped he would suddenly start remembering, but nothing came.

“Those were good cookies,” Bucky said, belatedly realizing he’d never thanked her. “I’m a terrible human being.”

“You’re doing fine,” Becca said.

“Do you bake a lot of cookies?” Bucky asked, before sighing over his stupid question.

Becca shrugged, “Not a lot, but it is one of the few things I can still do. I stopped traveling twenty years ago. I gave up sewing recently. I can still read, but it’s getting harder, but I move every day, still sing in the shower, love crosswords, and love my family,” She smiled, “But I wanted you to do the talking.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky said, he looked down, “I’m learning how to be human.” He shouldn’t have said that; now she would despise him.

“No, you’re remembering how to be human,” Becca said, and Bucky looked up. Becca was smiling, a beautiful sight. “You are a lovely human being.” Bucky looked down quickly. “You are.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he whispered.

“What?” Becca asked, “I can’t hear so good anymore.”

“I’ve done some bad things, Becca,” Bucky said, looking down.

“I know, the press likes to talk all about it,” Becca said, and Bucky’s stomach dropped. “Can I hear your side?”

Bucky tried to speak, but the metallic screaming inside started. Dimly, he heard Steve speak. “It wasn’t him, HYDRA wore him down and forced him do it, but we’ve made sure they can’t control him again.”

“I’m glad, but Bucky, it looks like it’s torn you apart,” Becca said. “Are you okay?”

“We’re working on that,” Steve told her.

“Can you talk to me?” Becca asked, “I’d really like to hear your voice.” Bucky tried, he really did, but he couldn’t. Becca nodded, “Do you remember Mother loved musical comedy, especially that old-fashioned Edwardian stuff? I recently re-found a playbill for a modern production of ‘A Country Girl’ done by an amateur theatre group; they were very good, and Mother would have loved it.” She studied Bucky slightly before saying, “I made a sugar cream pie yesterday, remember those?” Bucky smiled slightly, and Becca smiled back. “And a big potato salad with mayonnaise, and we drank egg cream. Perfect meal, huh?”

Bucky smiled, “I could go for an egg cream.”

“We should make some,” Steve said.

Becca lit up, “That’s our next event. Ooh, that will be a tough one. Everyone will have to get their ingredients together, and then on the count of three we’ll make our egg creams and drink them.”

“We’ll need to get some U-bet,” Steve said. 

Bucky nodded, “Can’t have an egg cream without it.”

They got the ingredients, and just looking at the ingredients brought back memories of soda fountains and fun. Bucky was eager to make his first egg cream in 70 years. Shuri was so excited she asked to be able to participate, although she promised not to say anything because her accent would give her away, and Sam and Natasha came as well.

Becca smiled when she saw her brother with more people.

“We’re ready,” Steve told the kimoyo hologram of Becca. He turned to the newbies, “The amount of each ingredient is important, but so is the order.”

Bucky nodded, “You can’t have brown foam, it’s gotta be white.” Shuri nodded intently, taking it in, and Bucky was pleased with how seriously she was taking it.

Steve continued, “I suppose it wasn’t important to get the small Coke-style glasses, but it makes it nicer. First, we chilled the glasses, now we’re going to put in the milk, then the seltzer water, and then the U-bet chocolate syrup, and then we stir and drink. The foam only lasts a few minutes.”

“This is a complicated drink,” Sam said.

“Milk, seltzer, U-bet, easy,” Steve said.

“Uh huh,” Sam said.

“Shall we start?” Becca asked.

“Wait,” Shuri said, “It’s called egg cream.” Bucky and Steve nodded. “Where’s the egg and cream?”

“Oh, yes,” Steve said, “It doesn’t have any.” Shuri, Sam, and Natasha just looked at each other. “It has milk; maybe it once had eggs, or it’s a worn down phrase from something else.”

“You don’t know, do you?” Shuri asked.

“Look, do you want some or not?” Steve asked.

“Sure, I’ll have one with a hamburger, you know, so I can have some ham in my hamburger,” Shuri said, laughing at her own joke.

“Okay, we’re going to make our egg creams now,” Steve said, ignoring the princess. 

“Good,” Becca said. Then everyone stared at her as they realized Shuri had spoken. “What?” Becca said, looking at them, “You know me, just terrible at placing accents.”

Steve walked the newbies through their very first egg cream. “Oooh!” Shuri said as hers foamed up. 

Bucky and Becca lifted their egg creams up to each other, and then they drank. It was glorious, so cool and refreshing.


	39. The Life Coach

Bucky couldn’t spend all of this time talking to his sister. He watched other movies with Steve. Natasha sometimes ate a meal with the Dora Milaje, and they sparred together in their downtime.

And then there was talking to Mboya, but while Bucky had mentioned he had a life coach, he didn’t want the others to see him in action. But Eshe casually walked up to Bucky as she was handing him more goat cookies, “First off, Jafari says the goats are getting fat again, and second, Mboya is coming by tomorrow. You might want to decide what you’re going to tell your friends.”

Bucky didn’t know what to tell them, so he avoided the lake in a vain attempt to avoid the whole thing and stayed right by his hut, which made Steve suspicious. When Bucky peeked out and saw Mboya casually strolling from the lake, he sighed. “Steve, you know, you don’t always have to stay around me. You could walk to the waterfall, you might like it.”

“Sure, whatever you want to do,” Steve said. 

Bucky frowned. He could still see Mboya coming. To make things worse, Sam and Natasha appeared. “So what are we going to do today?” Sam asked.

“Um,” Bucky said, standing awkwardly.

“Bucky suggested walking to the waterfall,” Steve said.

“Sounds good,” Sam said.

“I’m right here,” Bucky snapped.

“Is something wrong?” Natasha asked.

“Why would something be wrong?” Bucky heard himself asking.

Natasha frowned and turned to see Mboya coming. She didn’t look surprised to Bucky, but then she was a cool customer. “Let’s give him some space and do some drawing or something at the lake,” Natasha asked. Steve looked surprised, and Natasha shrugged, “You draw, I do some yoga, and Sam can do whatever he wants.”

Steve pointed to Bucky, “Bucky can draw, too.”

“Nah,” Bucky said, shaking his head and looking down. An idea hit him, “I have some boring stuff to do, you go ahead to the lake.”

Steve looked puzzled, “I’ll go with you.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, before somehow getting the picture, maybe from Natasha, “You know, really we should give Bucky some space sometimes.” Bucky didn’t like being spoken of in the third person, but Sam was at least looking at him as he said it. Besides, he really needed them to leave. Steve looked at Sam with a frown.

Mboya came up and gave them a long, extended, Wakandan greeting, which Steve and Sam enjoyed participating in. By the end of it, Bucky felt ready to scream. “My name is Kimathi Mboya, and I live in Namayeza.”

“You have a lovely village,” Steve said, and that started another long conversation, and Bucky was going to explode.

“So what do you do in Namayeza?” Steve finally asked, and Bucky sucked in his breath. 

Mboya’s eyes flicked to Bucky, and Bucky said, a little explosively, “He’s a life coach. You know it’s big over here and it’s no big thing, it’s just a thing.” He clamped down on himself to keep himself from saying anything more ridiculous and dared a glance at Steve, who looked surprised; Natasha simply nodded.

“Well you said there was a life coach, so we’re not surprised,” Sam said, and Steve schooled his features better. Sam turned to Mboya, “We tried out your deep breathing and it was really relaxing. I think everyone should have kept up with it.” Steve threw Sam a look as if that comment were aimed at him.

“Did you like it?” Mboya asked, “Maybe we could all get together and do some.”

Bucky shook his head.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Sam said, “I think meeting together would be a good idea. You know, we have a stressful job, and maybe we could talk. Life coaches do that kind of thing, right?” He spoke in that over-careful way that was for show.

“That’s right, we do. Talk.” Mboya said. 

“What would we talk about?” Steve asked, confused.

“Stress,” Sam said, “And how to combat it.”

Steve started to get a little uncomfortable and looked at Bucky, who couldn’t say a thing. Something weird was going on with his stomach, like flip-flops.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Natasha said, “Come on, boys.” Sam followed, but Steve wouldn’t budge. “Come on, Steve,” Natasha said without looking around. “Get your drawing supplies.”

“I’m not leaving Bucky,” Steve said.

“He wants to be left,” Natasha said. 

Steve looked back at Bucky, before asking, “What’s that sound?”

It was only then that Bucky heard it. That stress bead of his was whining and had been for awhile. “Nothing,” Bucky said.

“Why don’t you go on ahead?” Mboya suggested, “We’ll meet up with you later.”

Only then did Steve get it, “Oh, right, life coach. I’ll just get going.”

“That’s all it is,” Bucky said, “It’s no big thing.”

Steve nodded, “Life coach, no big thing, right. I’ll see you in a bit.” And with that he finally left.

Bucky let out a long breath. Mboya said, “I’d suggest sitting by the lake like we always do, but I get the feeling you’d like to avoid that since your friends will be going there.”

“Can we talk in here?” Bucky asked, pointing to his hut.

“Suits me,” Mboya said. He lifted his basket, “I have beer either way.”

“Good, I’m going to need it,” Bucky said. But it was only one beer each and they both knew it wouldn’t have any effect on him.

Bucky saw Mboya had also brought the finger paints, but they did calming exercises first. Then, Mboya smiled, “I’d like you to do something. You can paint stick fingers if you’d like, but I want you to paint something that makes you smile inside. It might be relaxing after the excitement of today.”

Bucky doubted it, but he was dutiful and thought a moment; his face softened at a memory. Mboya nodded, “Paint that, whatever it is.”

“Steve’s not going to like it,” Bucky said drily.

“Then show it to him,” Mboya said with a twinkle.

Bucky hesitated, “Do life coaches make people paint?”

Mboya paused, “They could, but I hope you don’t think I’m forcing you. Didn’t you use to paint with Steve?”

Still Bucky hesitated, “Do I have to show him?” 

“Of course not, it’s your decision,” Mboya said.

“Good, he wouldn’t like it.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to see you remembering, but it’s your decision, and it’s fine either way.”

Bucky painted four stick figures. Three stood, and one was on the ground, and they still didn’t have faces. One of the three was well apart from the others.

“Who are they?”

He pointed to two of the standing figures, “These two are our dates,” He gave the dates dresses, hats, shoes, and gloves, more details than he had thus far. 

“Who’s this?” Mboya asked, pointing to the one well apart from the others, “Me.” Bucky said. He gave himself and the one on the ground shirts, trousers, hats and shoes.

Mboya smiled and studied the stick figure that represented Bucky, as this was the first time he’d painted himself. “Are they having fun?” Mboya asked.

Bucky paused, “If I give them smiles it would show they are having fun, but it would also look like we’re laughing at Steve, but we weren’t.” He gave them little smiles as a compromise. He still didn’t give his own stick figure a face.

“That’s Steve on the ground?” Mboya asked.

“Oh yes,” Bucky said, adding a puddle.

Steve’s voice came from outside the hut, “I don’t want to intrude, Bucky, but….” Bucky quickly put the painting face down, went outside, and made sure the cloth screening the entrance was closed. “Did your life coach leave? I just wanted to know if you wanted to walk in the forest. Eshe says she just saw a lot of beautiful butterflies and thought I’d be interested.”

“Um,” Bucky said.

Mboya came out of the hut, “I was just leaving. Go ahead if you’d like.”

Steve noticed the paint on Bucky’s fingers but said nothing. 

Bucky shrugged, “I’ll just get washed up.”

Bucky went back into the hut and Steve followed. Bucky pushed the painting aside onto a small table and went to wash his hands, but the painting fell back on the floor while Bucky washed. Steve helpfully put the painting back up, and his face fell as the painting flopped over.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, “What’s this?”

Bucky came out, “You weren’t supposed to see.” He took the painting from Steve’s hands and hid it.

Steve pointed, “These are stick figures.”

“I knew you wouldn’t approve,” Bucky said.

Steve tried to backtrack, “It’s fine of course, but what are you doing painting stick figures?”

“Go away,” Bucky said. He grabbed a gourd and threw it at Steve.

“All right then,” Steve said, backing up, “I guess I’ll leave.”

Bucky prowled in his hut, but he could hear his friends outside talking. “What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“I don’t understand, he was drawing stick figures!” Steve said.

There was a long pause. “Okay,” Sam finally said. “What’s the harm in that?”

“Bucky used to do portraits like no one’s business,” Steve said, “The emotions he could show in the faces….”

Bucky threw another gourd out the door, “Leave me alone!”

Steve stayed away, and Bucky sat with his back to the wall in his hut. Eshe brought in food, “The children wanted to take care of the goats today, hope that’s all right.”

Natasha’s voice came from outside, “Knock knock.”

“Go away,” Bucky said.

“Okay.”

He sighed, “What did you want?”

“Can I come in?”

“If you must.”

Natasha stayed standing just inside the door, but then she towered over the seated Bucky, so she sat down just inside and leaned against one edge of the door. “If you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to.”

“Good,” Bucky said.

They sat in silence for awhile. “Why are you here?” Bucky asked.

“To make sure you’re not dead.”

“I am inside.”

“I know,” Natasha said. “So was I.”

Bucky looked at her, “How did you manage?”

“I had help. Clint took me to see … a wonderful family. There was a woman, Laura, who helped me a lot. She let me just be for awhile, but then she tried to draw me out little by little. She bought me Russian novels and music. ” Natasha smiled, remembering, “We’d sit in the kitchen and talk, and she taught me to cook; my first American dessert was Key Lime Pie.” She shrugged, “Anyway, you don’t want to hear me babbling.”

“That wasn’t babbling,” Bucky said, “It sounds nice.” 

“It was my Wakanda,” Natasha said, “I know you feel guilt and like you’re being pushed and stretched to be something you’re not. Everyone around you seems like a human being but you don’t feel anything at all, but you’ll make it.”

“Do the dead come to you?”

“I don’t let them.”

“How do you manage?”

“You know how, you just don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to dishonor them,” Bucky said. 

“I think you’re more honorable than I.”

Bucky looked at her, “I don’t think the world would agree with you.”

“Forget the world.” She shrugged, “I don’t dwell on what happened, I move on.” She paused, “That has its own issues, though.”

Finally, Bucky said, “Did I teach you to kill?”

Natasha paused, “Not really, I already knew how to kill; you just gave me advanced techniques.”

Bucky put his face in his hand. 

Natasha shrugged, “You didn’t have a choice, anyway.” He shrugged and looked away, and so did she. “Someone else wouldn’t have done as good a job, and I could’ve ended up dead.” 

“Would that have made you happy?” Bucky asked.

Natasha paused, “No, it wouldn’t. Alive I can make amends, pay up.” She looked at Bucky, “You and I are survivors.” Bucky sighed deeply. 

Bucky felt he needed to make amends to Steve somehow after yelling and throwing things at him, so when Steve peeked through the door, Bucky asked him to come in. “How are you doing, Buck?” Steve asked carefully.

“I can’t paint, that part of me is dead inside,” Bucky told him, wordlessly showing him the stick drawing. Steve stared at the painting, perhaps comparing it to whatever he’d painted in the 30s and 40s. 

“All right then,” Steve said. They stood there in silence for a moment, and Bucky could hear a goat bleating in the distance. Then Steve’s face changed, “Who is facedown in the puddle?”

“Who do you think?” Bucky asked.

“Am I facedown? Bucky, did you paint me in the puddle?”

Bucky grinned slightly, “It’s our first double date, remember?”

“How could I not?” Steve said, frowning, “I wasn’t that wet,” Steve said.

“No, you were muddy,” Bucky said.

“It wasn’t that bad, when are you going to draw me getting up?” Steve asked.

“I’m not, you’re staying wet and muddy for all eternity.”

“You are a mean person.”

“At least I’m dry.” Bucky said airily.

Steve rolled his eyes, “It was so embarrassing.”

Homework was another mortifying picture of Steve. “That’s going to be hard,” Bucky deadpanned.

But he couldn’t think of any when the time came to paint in his hut. “Steve?” Bucky asked, calling him in. Steve came near. “I need to paint an embarrassing picture. All I can remember is you getting sick or getting beaten up by a bully.”

Steve frowned, “Hey, what about us playing baseball or going to the movies?”

“I mean that could be potentially unseemly. I’m sure there was something about baseball, maybe dropping a ball…”

Steve studied his friend, “Why would he ask you to paint an upsetting picture? That doesn’t sound right.”

“Not embarrassing for me, for you,” Bucky said.

“I see, is that funny to you?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, “Yes, it is.” Suddenly, a light dawned on him, “Of course.”

Steve was horrified, “No! What did you remember?”

“Coney Island,” Bucky said with a smile. 

Steve sighed, “You better not be thinking of the Cyclone.”

“That was its name,” Bucky said, getting ready to paint. “How many drops did it have?”

“Too many,” Steve said. “It was terrible.”

“A few minor drops,” he drew a steep one, “a few gentle curves,” he drew a sharp one. “And here’s little Stevie at the bar, terrified,” Bucky smiled. 

“I was not terrified, I was enjoying it, you’re supposed to yell during those rides,” Steve said, “but thank you for not painting me throwing up.”

“No, that’s the next drawing.” Bucky said, eyes on his masterpiece, so he missed Steve’s pout. “Mboya is always going on about stories, well, here’s a story. I’m going to show you scared, me enjoying the ride, and then you throwing up, and me looking,” he thought a moment, “I’ll be surprised.” Bucky paused, “He’ll like emotions.” Steve smiled as he watched Bucky paint.

But then the dark-haired man stopped, “What?” Steve asked, his smile fading.

“It’s mean of me to paint you like this,” Bucky said, “I should paint you saving me even as I was trying to kill you.” Steve didn’t know what to say, but Bucky paused, and shrugged, “Then again, I can also just paint you throwing your guts up.” He turned back to work.


	40. Friends and Family

No matter what others said, Bucky felt he had to entertain his friends, and, not knowing what else to do, Bucky suggested they go to the waterfall and see the butterflies. He wasn’t too sure of the appeal, since if you’ve seen one butterfly you’ve seen them all, but Shuri and Eshe enjoyed it, so perhaps his friends would, too.

The walk was decent enough, and they did not see any bears or other dangerous creatures that might eat them. Steve and Sam seemed to enjoy the walk so much that Bucky was beginning to fear they’d have to do it more often. Natasha was hard to read. Finally, when they saw one butterfly. Bucky assumed the walk was a success and now they could leave, but they stayed and saw more. Steve went into overload, “Look!” He said, getting closer, “Marvelous.” Then Steve and Sam started trying to figure out which butterfly was which by using their kimoyo beads. They were all sorts of colors: brown, black, white, and yellow, with different colored stripes. It sounded like there were a thousand types of butterfly to choose from. Bucky found a nice tree and leaned against it, listening to his friends chatter on excitedly. Steve eventually noticed, “Buck, look!” So he did, but he didn’t bother getting up.

Natasha was beside him, also watching Steve, “I think he’s drooling,” Natasha said softly, smirking.

“It’s good to see him happy,” Bucky said.

“It’s not a bad walk,” Natasha said. “The sound of that nearby waterfall is calming.”

Bucky nodded, “Yes, it is.”

“Hey, boys,” Natasha said, “Shall we go see the waterfall?” So they did, and Bucky enjoyed watching the water pound on the stones below.

That night, Bucky dreamed of young girls training in hand-to-hand combat, acrobatics, weapons handling, and tactics. He saw himself training girls, and through it all, one young girl with large green eyes watching him intently. 

However, he wasn’t with his friends all the time. Sometimes they spent time by themselves, which is when Bucky talked to his sister alone, or he talked with Mboya. Sometimes, Steve stayed to also talk with Becca. Bucky figured his sister was the closest Steve had to family. He even got the sense that sometimes Steve talked to Becca without him.

He had it confirmed when Becca said in one of their meetings. “I know I don’t know where you are, but Steve says the people there were willing to make you an arm, but you didn’t even want to look into it.” She paused, “I can understand why, of course.” Then she studied him, because she couldn’t.

Bucky threw a look at Steve, who was with them. “I don’t remember talking about it here,” as in front of Becca.

Steve shrugged, “I like to talk to Becca too.”

“I’m not saying you should, I just found that interesting,” Becca said.

Bucky nodded, “You think I should.” 

Becca shook her head, “That’s not what I said.”

Bucky panicked for a moment, feeling like he was suddenly a machine before reminding himself that he wasn’t, and that he was in control. “It’s just that, I want to make sure what’s me.”

“I get that,” Becca said.

“Do you?” Bucky asked. “I mean, I’m tired of being one-handed all the time, it’s limiting, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Whatever you decide,” Becca said, “But you know, the arm would give you options, and you’d know what’s you and what’s not because the arm wouldn’t be flesh.”

“True,” Bucky said.

“It doesn’t make up for a human arm, it would just help you grab or something,” Becca said. 

“It would be like a tool,” Bucky said, and Becca nodded.

“But you’ve no doubt thought of that,” Becca said. For a moment, Bucky let himself picture having a second arm, but he quickly squashed that. He didn’t deserve one. Besides, the Wakandans were no doubt happy he’d refused their amazing offer, and they would have considered the deal withdrawn. Becca went on to the next topic, “It was really cold and rainy here today and…..” 

After the call, Steve told Bucky, “You know she wasn’t picturing a Wakandan arm when she said it would only help you grab things. It would offer you total movement, feeling, everything.”

“But the offer was in the past,” Bucky said. Steve shook his head. “Do you think I should?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s face said he did, but he shrugged casually, “Whatever you decide.”

It made him nervous, and he let the conversation drop.


	41. Life Coach Practices

And then came a time Bucky was dreading. Bucky and Steve were both on edge but trying to fake it, and Sam asked out of the blue, “Are we ever doing the Life Coach thing?” Bucky was supposed to be meeting with Mboya, but his friends didn’t get the memo and were hanging around him, driving him nuts.

“What do you do with a Life Coach anyway?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,” Bucky growled.

“I thought I saw him around the lake,” Sam said. That was because Bucky was supposed to meet up with him and didn’t want to in front of everyone but no one would go away and leave him in peace!

“He’s like a friend, right?” Steve said, “Let’s go.” 

“No, let’s not,” Bucky said, but of course Steve was in his I’m-going-to-help-poor-Bucky mode, and Bucky hated it. He gritted his teeth, “I’m fine.” Steve strode out. “Steve, get back here! I hate it when you do that!” But Steve didn’t even hear. Bucky turned on Sam, “I’m just fine. Stop it all of you!”

Sam looked abashed, “Sorry, man.”

“I know you were trying to help, but I can make it on my own.”

Steve came back with Mboya, who took one look at Bucky’s face, “Let’s do this another time.”

“No,” Steve said, sitting down in Bucky’s hut, unaware he was blocking the doorway and Bucky’s exit. “So, what do we talk about.”

Bucky glared at Mboya and Steve, and the whole world. He was going to scream and throw something and punch their lights out. He was going to blow any minute.

“I was mad, really mad, one time,” Sam suddenly said, and everyone in the hut looked at him. “My father was a minister in Harlem, and one day when I was nine, he was trying to keep the peace between two rival gangs, and he got killed instead.” There was silence. “Then a few years later, my mother died while keeping my brother and sister and me from a mugger.” Sam nodded to himself, “I tried to do the right thing to honor them, but I got angry. I almost worked for the mob, do you believe that? I already had a nickname, ‘Snap.’ But then I looked at myself and said, ‘What are you doing?’ It was a close thing.” Bucky stared at Sam, having never realized there was pain behind the smile. Silence fell on the group.

Steve spoke softly, “I was eighteen when my mother died; I never knew my father. I didn’t get angry, I got…. sad.”

Bucky’s parents had died when he was in his early 20s, but that thought stuck in his throat; he noticed Natasha wasn’t even there.

Mboya read the room, “And here I was just going to suggest we do breathing exercises.”

“Sorry, that was dark,” Sam said, “I just recognized that look.” He was looking at Bucky.

“It’s very painful when parents die,” Mboya said. “And a very human response to any deep pain is anger.”

“You mentioned breathing exercises?” Steve asked. So they did that, thankful for something light to do.

“I like these, we should do them again,” Sam said when they had finished. “What say we do them every morning?”

“How about a run instead?” Steve said, “Clear the head that way.”

Sam crossed his arms and glared at Steve, “I’m not running with you.”

Bucky smiled at Steve, “I will.”

Natasha now made an appearance with her usual impeccable timing, and Sam turned to her, “Ya wanna run in the morning at a normal speed?”

“Oh ho, normal,” Steve said, simply to keep it light.

“Yeah, normal,” Sam said.

“What brought this on?” Natasha asked, looking between the two.

“We learned some deep breathing,” Sam said.

Natasha nodded, “It’s also good with yoga.”

Steve paused, “When Bucky mentioned deep breathing earlier, didn’t you ask what was the point of it?”

Natasha shrugged, “Force of habit, never admit what you know.”

Steve shook his head, “Ever the spy.”

Natasha sighed, “Well, I’m saying it now.”

“So show us some yoga,” Sam said.

“Oh please no,” Bucky said. He found yoga hard when Natasha had tried to teach him earlier. In Wakanda, he only did the easiest of the poses, and that when no one else was looking.

Natasha shook her head at Bucky, “I told you, only bend as far as you can and stop if there’s pain.”

Sam turned to Bucky, “You don’t have to do it. I’m just personally curious.”

“I do it in bare feet on a mat but I’ll show you anyway,” Natasha began, “And I’m not sticking my butt in the air unless you do too, so do as I do right now.” She took off her shoes and found some soft grass. Sam got ready to follow, but Steve just stood there good-naturedly, prepared to watch until Natasha glared at him.

Steve straightened up and got the message, “Yes, ma’am.” He got ready to do some yoga.

She went through some poses, and Sam and Steve followed as best they could; they were ten times better than Bucky.

When she did a plank, Sam asked, “You didn’t show Bucky this, did you?” People did a plank with both hands supporting them.

“I can do that one,” Bucky said, for he could do it one-handed. His problem was he couldn’t bend or stretch.

Then while sitting down with her feet in front of her, Natasha leaned her upper body over her lower body and grabbed her feet, “Grab your shins if you can’t grab your feet,” Natasha said, “Or bend your knees.”

“You’ll have trouble with this one,” Bucky smirked, but his smirk faltered when Sam and Steve grabbed their lower legs.

“It must be the metal,” Steve told him, referring to the metal reinforcement for the now missing arm.

Bucky nodded, but he realized he was going to have to practice in secret before doing yoga with everyone.

So they started each morning with breathing and a jog, and then the yoga. Everyone told Bucky he didn’t have to do yoga since he had said he didn’t want to do it, but Bucky felt obligated and did it anyway; he hated being the worst.

So he asked Mboya about it. “Why am I so bad at yoga? I thought maybe the serum, but Steve does it just fine. Is it the metal?”

Mboya shook his head, “It’s your muscles; they’re tense, and tense muscles don’t stretch.”

Bucky sighed, “Oh.”

“A lot of people feel they should suddenly be experts in yoga, but it takes practice,” Mboya studied Bucky, “Don’t push it, especially since you have a tendency to not notice when your body is in distress. It’s probably a good idea to do it only with someone else so they can watch out for you.” Bucky nodded and walked away.

Bucky told his friends it was indeed the metal; he did yoga alone, and he pushed it. He knew it wasn’t pain because he wasn’t screaming, but that didn’t mean he liked the feeling one bit. He walked out his hut wondering what it was.

“Bucky,” Steve said, “You’re walking funny, are you in pain?”

“No,” Bucky said, wishing the feeling would go away.

“Bucky, that’s pain.”

“Really? I don’t like it,” Bucky said.

“What did you do?”

“That wretched yoga,” Bucky said, “Everyone else can do it just fine.”

Steve shook his head, “Sam and I look dreadful beside Natasha, but that’s to be expected, she’s done ballet, so we just do the best we can.”

Steve made Bucky sit out the next yoga session, figuring Bucky’s muscles were still sore, and Bucky studied the difference between Natasha and the guys. Steve was right, but that didn’t make Bucky feel any better.


	42. Masks

One day the children came with boxes and put them on the table. “We’re making face masks, want to help?” Zani asked.

Steve lit up, “What do we do?”

“First, we make the mask,” Zani said.

“And then we paint it,” Lencho said. “We’re doing art masks, not dance ones or any festival masks or any of the others.”

They got out clay, molds for round masks, and some sculpting materials. “First, you have to think of what the essence is that you want to express,” Zani said. Bucky started backing away quietly.

“That’s deep,” Sam said as he got his hands on a section of the clay. 

Steve was already putting his clay in a mold, “Bucky, are you going to join us?”

“I’ll watch,” Bucky said.

Steve didn’t press, but he turned to Natasha, and in a tone that suggested he thought she should join them, he asked, “Natasha?” She frowned but joined them.

Zani was a very good teacher, and Bucky’s friends enjoyed themselves. The children’s masks created a visceral response Bucky didn’t understand and contained cultural references Bucky could only guess at. Sam’s was a happy mask. Steve stared at his mask when he was finishing up, “I meant to make it happy.” His was a gaunt, small mask, and his childhood self looked up at him; Steve looked puzzled.

“That’s Freudian,” Sam whispered to himself, but Bucky and Steve heard.

Steve looked over at Natasha’s; hers was carefully neutral.

“When the clay dries, then we can paint them,” Lencho said, oblivious to the undercurrent. 

When they dried, the children used vibrant colors and color contrasts. It also turned out that painting included adding feathers and cowrie shells when the paint dried.

Bucky didn’t tell Mboya about the mask painting, but someone did. “You know,” Mboya began as he brought out a box of supplies by the quiet lake as they sat under a tree, “In a way we all wear masks - personas that we think people want to see.” Bucky sighed inside, afraid of where this was going. 

Bucky thought he’d head him off, “I’m not good with expressing things.”

“You’ve added more detail to your stick figures lately, but I don’t want to push you. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we’d start with painting a pre-made mask.” Bucky was relieved for small favors. Mboya brought out three masks, “I picked these because I thought they were rather neutral, which I thought you’d like, but I want you to pick the one you like the best.”

Bucky picked the one he thought was the most neutral of the neutrals. He assumed he’d get paint brushes like the ones the others had used for their masks, but of course Mboya brought out finger-paints, so he’d get the tactile feeling.

“Take your time with this and see if this is something you feel you’d like to do,” Mboya said, “I’d like you to portray how others see you on the outside of the mask, and how you really feel on the inside.” Bucky nodded, wondering why Mboya didn’t ask for him to tear his heart out and stomp on it at the same time.

“Sure, no problem,” Bucky muttered.

Mboya put on some relaxing music.

But once Bucky held the paints, he relaxed, for he’d been here before and it had always been okay. He’d even enjoyed it when he painted the Cyclone and Steve throwing up. “Which one do I do first?”

“Whichever one you want,” Mboya said.

Bucky paused, “I have no idea how others see me.” No one thought about the Asset, he had been a tool with a mission, not a human being. Steve treated him like he had from Before and then got shocked when Steve found out he’d changed, even the blond man denied getting shocked. Bucky took cream paint and covered the outside of the mask. 

“What are you feeling?” Mboya asked.

“I’m calm,” Bucky said. He saw that there were things he could decorate the mask with, there was hair, different colored eyes, drawing tools, butterflies, leaves, mud, glitter, different-shaped jewels, powder, and other items. Bucky took some eyes - it didn’t matter which color - and covered them completely in black, and then glued them into the mask. He stared at the outside mask he’d made; it was soulless, and although it had a human shape, it didn’t look quite human. Mboya waited for more, so Bucky announced, “I’m done.”

“Is that the way people see you?” Mboya asked. Bucky nodded. “How do they see you?”

“I’m someone to use, or a problem people need to fix.”

“Is that the way Steve sees you?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes he just sees me as his old Bucky, and he gets surprised when I’m not. He wants me to be like from Before.”

“Do you think he might be happy just to be with you?” Mboya asked, and Bucky shrugged. “What do the children see?”

Bucky smiled, “Someone who’ll do the jobs they don’t want to.”

“Is that why they play with you?” Mboya asked, and Bucky shook his head. “So they maybe they like you more than that? They could play with each other, but they choose to play with you.”

“They like seeing a grown man flounder over making a solar system.”

“Zani was super excited when your planet got life,” Mboya said.

Bucky smiled, “They’re good people.”

“What do Sam and Natasha see?”

Bucky paused, “Natasha sees a survivor; at least, that’s what she told me. Sam, he thinks I’m a basket case.”

“What evidence do you have that makes you think that?” Mboya asked, and Bucky thought. “Is there any evidence that might suggest he sees you as a friend?” Bucky shrugged. “Do you think your mask represents what they think?” Bucky looked at the mask and shook his head. Mboya waited patiently, and Bucky sighed and picked up the mask again.

“Lucky for me this can be used as a base,” Bucky said, referring to his soulless mask. But now he was really stuck. “How do I show these things?”

“You could either divide the mask up into sections if you feel fragmented, or turn the different facets into an organic whole, or you could find a common theme and paint that.”

Bucky painted blue irises on the eyes. He took the brown drawing tool and added eyebrows, he took red and added lips, and glued in dark hair. “Okay, now I’m really done.”

“That looks like you,” Mboya said.

“I’m not cheating,” Bucky said. Mboya’s eyebrows suggested he explain himself. “This represents the common theme; maybe everyone in Wakanda sees me as a human being.” Mboya’s smile made Bucky feel good inside.

And then it was on to the inside. How did he see himself? Bucky didn’t want to do this one and hoped he’d run out of time, but no such luck. Well, he felt dead inside, so he painted the inside of the mask all in black. But there was gauze too because he didn’t let himself feel, so he glued some gauze. But he shouldn’t have done that yet, because there was the pain and sorrow and anger that he kept himself from feeling, so that should have gone on before the gauze. He pulled the gauze off. The red could represent blood and anger, so he spattered the inside of the mask with red, and he kept on spattering it until you couldn’t see the black. 

“Could you explain what you’re feeling?” Mboya asked.

“It’s blood,” he said, breathing a little hard.

“Are you feeling anger?”

It wasn’t right that you couldn’t see the black, so he took a carving instrument and cut away at the red until you could see black. He carved howling faces in the mask but didn’t like that and chipped away until they were gone. Sometimes he got a little too strong and poked through the mask.

“That’s okay,” Mboya said.

Breathing a little faster now, Bucky picked up the pieces and glued them back in, but with one he didn’t pay enough attention and glued it in backwards. He pushed it out before the glue had set and put it in the right way, but now it was all covered in glue. He’d repaint it later. He glued some gauze on, but then realized he’d never put in the metal. He didn’t want to take the gauze off one more time (he was running out of fresh gauze) so took the metallic silver and bordered the inside of the mask with it. Then with a shaky hand, on top of the gauze, he took a mix of red and silver and painted a blob and then six curly tentacles coming from the blob. Rage filled him and he threw the mask against a tree so hard it broke, breathing heavily.

“It’s okay,” Mboya said.

Bucky strode over to that thing and stomped on it, crushing it further and further before throwing the pieces into the lake.

“Do you feel better?” Mboya asked.

Bucky did, but as he stood there breathing heavily, he also realized he just threw away material Mboya had bought, “I threw away your supplies.” He started slowing his breathing down.

“They were yours to do with as you wanted.” Mboya said, “You’re starting to feel angry, and that’s actually a step in the right direction.”

“No it isn’t,” Bucky said.

“You’re feeling something.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Feeling angry at what happened to you is a human reaction,” Mboya said. Bucky still didn’t like it. “Can you tell me what you painted?”

Bucky at least owed him that much. “I feel dead inside, so that’s black, and the red is blood.”

“And the gauze?”

“Feeling dead, but it’s the not-feeling.”

“What was the silver?”

Bucky paused, “The Winter Soldier. I can’t get away from him. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a border. I was thinking I was bound by it, but maybe it’s more a weight holding me down. Maybe I should have put silver only at the bottom.” But he also ran back to feeling dead-inside when he was threatened, maybe it was a border after all.

“Whatever you did is fine,” Mboya paused, “I’m curious, what caused the physical reaction?”

Bucky stared at the lake, “The paint on top of the gauze. It wasn’t the Winter Soldier; it was HYDRA.” He was a monster inside.

After that, Bucky got out the punching ball he’d hidden under his bed because he had been afraid he would go overboard and kill everyone in sight. Using the punching ball made him feel better afterward, but the second time he used it, he punched a hole in it and it’s stuffing spilled out. He cleaned it up and hid the evidence under his bed, but soon there was a new one in its place. When he destroyed that one, he hid it with a note, “Sorry.” The replacement came back with a note, “No problem.” After that, he tried to watch people writing to find out who was doing it.


	43. Running Around the Lake

Bucky enjoyed his runs with Steve. They went at a comfortable pace even though Sam made disparaging comments when they caught up and passed him. Sometimes Natasha ran with Sam, but other times, Natasha carefully chose a nice, shady vantage point and drank something that looked incredibly yummy while they worked out.

Today was one of those days. 

Bucky and Steve finished their run and went to meet up with Natasha and Sam. Bucky saw they’d pass Mboya on the way as the man was also enjoying the lake, and Bucky wondered how they could pass Mboya without saying anything to him. He tried to walk nonchalantly but quickly past the doctor. “She’s got a point,” Mboya said as they passed by.

“Come again?” Steve asked, stopping, just as Sam also met them.

“It’s good to work out, but it’s also good to relax and enjoy life,” Mboya said. He turned to Steve, ‘What do you enjoy?”

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“Dude, don’t you think it’s about time you figured out?” Sam asked. “I asked you that earlier.”

Mboya nodded, “It takes time to get used to the new century, but it’s also good to find out what brings you pleasure.”

“Sure, if you have the time for that,” Steve said.

Mboya looked at the lake, “You have all the time in the world here.” Steve frowned, and Mboya looked at him, “No need for brave, reckless behavior or standing against the world to atone for perceived guilt.”

Steve nodded, “Nice weather we’re having,” and he slinked away. “That’s one heck of a life coach,” he muttered when Mboya couldn’t hear.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “He does that.” 

Sam shook his head, “What kind of a response is ‘nice weather we’re having’?”

“What did he mean by ‘atoning for perceived guilt?’” Bucky asked

“Ooooh,” Sam said.

“Darned if I know,” Steve said.

“He wasn’t talking about me, was he? You broke with the Accords and your friend to find me,” Bucky asked, and Sam fell silent.

“No, he’s just talking,” Steve said. 

“His ‘reckless behavior’ was spot on. Tell me again how you managed to ditch the Valkyrie without baling out to safety,” Bucky asked.

“There wasn’t time, and I was flying over ice.”

“Did you even try?” Bucky asked.

“There wasn’t time!” Steve picked up the pace as if he were trying to get to Natasha quickly.

“Why did you give up when we were on the helicarrier?”

Steve shrugged, “I was tired.”

“You always say you can fight all day,” Bucky said.

“It wasn’t you, okay?” 

“I nearly killed you.”

“Well, you didn’t, so it’s okay,” Steve said. 

“About that fighting all day thing,” Sam said under his breath, “Sounds a little self-defensive to me, but what do I know?” 

Bucky stopped, “You wouldn’t have let me kill you, would you have? I couldn’t live with that.”

“Look, it didn’t happen.”

“Hey, boys,” Natasha called out, “I think you need a drink. Eshe just made this out of milk, evaporated milk, basil seeds, and something she called agar-agar jelly.” The remains of her drink was tinted orange. This one’s mango and it’s very good. She called it ‘alouda.’”

“Before breakfast?” Steve asked.

Natasha smiled, “After breakfast, she adds ice cream.” She finished hers.

Bucky had never thought of it, but maybe Steve was hurting, too, and Bucky should help. “We’re going to have to find out what you enjoy,” Bucky told Steve.

“Keep that up, and we’ll have to find out what _you_ enjoy,” Steve told him. Bucky withdrew just a bit.

“You know you guys could let yourself like something,” Sam said.

“I like things fine,” Steve said. “Let’s have breakfast.” The conversation was over.

After breakfast, Bucky and Steve stared at the lake. Bucky was a miserable friend to Steve. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you,” Bucky said, looking more at the lake than Steve.

Steve looked at him, “How can you say that? I was the one who let you down.”

Bucky turned to him, “What do you mean?”

“If I’d gone back for you after you were blown out of the train….” Steve said.

“You thought I was dead; that was a reasonable assumption,” Bucky said.

“Still,” Steve said, looking back at the lake.

“I wish it had happened differently too, but you weren’t at fault,” Bucky said, looking at the lake, “I was.”

“No you weren’t.”

“So what do we do?” Bucky asked. 

They fell into silence. Bucky listened to the birds and the lap of the lake. “It’s peaceful here,” Steve said.

“I like it,” Bucky said.

“I can see why,” Steve said. “But maybe it’s a little too peaceful. Nowhere to hide.”

“Maybe that’s why they brought us here.”

“Maybe.”


	44. Painting

The children came by with kaolin pigments to paint with. Steve lit up and started setting up at the lake. Lencho and Steve sat down like best buds under a shady spot. Eshe came by with cool drinks, and Bucky decided to hang around for the drinks. Besides, Zani had brought Becca the goat as a reference point for her painting, and someone had to keep the goat happy while everyone else painted. Between playing with the goat, Bucky watched the children and Steve and Sam paint. “I’m new to this so I’m not going to be as good as y’all,” Sam said. 

Bucky found it interesting watching them. Steve painted a peaceful lake; it was calming and had great detail and verisimilitude, but done in a poetic way. Sam painted a simpler lake, with the issues common to those new to painting, like beginner color mixing choices, painting exactly what he saw, and a weak focal point. The children were painting something else. In Thabo’s painting, the lake before each painter mirrored what the painter felt, and as each painter painted what was right before them, each was painting reality as they felt it. Thabo had been stealing looks at his fellow painters, because their expressions were spot on. Lencho’s had ghostly images of previous days when the children ran away in delight as Bucky stared at them. Different sections of the lake were different days, and Bucky began as the hard soldier but softened as the days went on. Zani painted the lake with the goats exploring the lake and doing funny things as the children ran after them.

Steve looked over at the children’s work. ‘You’re being more expressionistic.” He said. “I used to once.” He studied his work for awhile before painting again.

“Mm hm,” Sam said, “Be happy I’m painting at all.” Sam didn’t change his one bit.

Steve’s lake had changed. Instead of capturing the lake as it was, open and peaceful, he went even more poetic with a more soothing lake, and the trees now shadowed the lake in calming ways. On one side, Bucky was kneeling as he played with Becca the goat, and on the other, some of the shadows didn’t reflect the trees but were shadows for invisible imps that were playing peek-a-boo with the viewer. Steve smiled, “That’s what this lake really is.” Everyone admired each other’s painting.

That night, Bucky couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and he contemplated taking medicine for it, but he resisted. Instead, he got out his notebooks and tried to write, but nothing came. He tried to read, but he wasn’t really reading. He froze as he heard a sound outside. Everyone had assured him there were no deadly animals outside, and besides, there were Dora Milaje. Did one of them hit something? The sound had been towards the lake, and he wouldn’t expect Dora Milaje there this time of night. He grabbed his heaviest can of stashed food and peeked out. 

There was a person by the lake outlined in the moonlight, rubbing their leg. The person picked up something and turned to see Bucky. The person walked towards him and resolved into Natasha. “Sorry to wake you,” she whispered when she was close enough.

“You didn’t wake me.” He hugged his arm to his body to keep out the cold of the night air. 

“Are you cold?” Natasha asked.

“No,” Bucky said, although he kept hugging himself. He indicated his hut, “Come on in.” It was only when he had a woman in his hut in the middle of the night that he realized what it looked like, “I mean, I’m not saying or anything, I mean….”

“It’s okay,” Natasha said. Bucky saw she had picked up an errant paint can from earlier in the day. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” Bucky picked up the medicine, “I can take this if I can’t sleep, want some? It works.”

“No, I’m fine. I just walk around the lake when I can’t sleep; it’s peaceful. When that doesn’t work, yoga in the moonlight isn’t bad.”

“I should try it some time,” Bucky said, although why he’d say something that stupid was beyond him.

“You don’t like the night,” Natasha observed.

Now Bucky felt idiotic, “No, it’s just that… I might get cold. You know I’ve done the cold thing and it wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Natasha smiled, “Good thing you don’t have to fight here, you’d be at a disadvantage.”

Bucky tensed, “What do you mean?”

“One-armed,” Natasha said. Bucky froze. He thought he was doing penance having only one arm, and it had never occurred to him how vulnerable he’d made himself. Natasha read his face, “You are safer here than you would be anywhere else on the planet; you’re fine.”

Bucky was getting an arm in the morning.

“I was just thinking out loud,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “The Dora Milaje are better than two arms, and if anyone can get around them and us, you’re doomed anyway.”

He was still getting an arm in the morning.

“You want to do some yoga right now?” Natasha asked.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or worse?” Bucky said.

Natasha cocked her head slightly, “Come on, get your mat.” She left to get hers, and Bucky sighed; they met at the lake.

They just did poses and the breathing with it. Natasha was utterly graceful, like a dream in the moonlight. Bucky was stiff and inflexible. Natasha stopped stretching and simply stood by his side as he tried to go through the poses. Any inch of extra stretch in him she would praise, and he felt he relaxed a bit and was doing better. After awhile, she started doing the poses again and they did them side by side, the graceful and the stiff, and it was just fine.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Bucky asked when they were finished.

“I can’t sometimes,” Natasha said. 

Bucky nodded, understanding. “You’re still years ahead of me.”

Natasha shrugged. “We’re all still on a journey.”


	45. An Arm

In the morning, Shuri wasn’t there to ask if the offer of an arm was still good, and Bucky was afraid he had frittered his one chance away. “What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve asked.

“I want an arm,” Bucky said, he opened his mouth to explain the sudden change, but Steve didn’t care.

“That’s wonderful! I don’t think Shuri’s here today. We can go into the village and see if we can find Mboya; he’ll get the process going.” Bucky nodded, feeling very good about it. But first, they went through their morning routine, and Natasha smiled at Bucky when they went through yoga postures, but otherwise she gave no indication of the night before. Bucky felt he did pretty good with the yoga thing.

Then they walked to the village, with Sam and Natasha tagging along without even a question as to why. Sam didn’t appear to know or care, but Natasha always walked around as if she knew what they were doing, even if she didn’t.

They didn’t remember which was Mboya’s house, but a passing Wakandan did. Once at the Mboya’s, they knocked, and a woman greeted them, holding a half-eaten sandwich. “I’m sorry for bothering you, ma’am,” Steve said, “We were just hoping for Mr. Mboya.”

“Oh, sorry for my manners,” she said as she put her sandwich down at her waist as if that were better. “We’re running late today, but still, you just missed him,” she pointed the way he’d gone. She looked at Bucky, “Do you need to talk to him? I’ll get him on kimoyo….”

“I just wanted to ask if the offer of an arm was still good,” Bucky said, “Because I’ve waited so long maybe a cheaper arm….” he stopped because the woman was staring at him. “I knew I’d waited too long.”

“Why are you asking him about the arm?” she asked.

“Shuri isn’t here, but it’s fine. It’s my fault for waiting too long on the arm,” Bucky said, backing away.

“No, it’s not,” the woman said. “I’d love to make you one.” Everyone stared at her. “You know I work on miniaturization and prosthetics in Shuri’s Design Group, right?”

“You’re Mrs. Mboya,” Bucky said at last.

“Well, I do live with Mr. Mboya,” she said.

A younger lady appeared at the doorway, “Very nice to meet you, sorry, but I’m late, could I squeeze past?” They moved so she could leave, “Thanks a lot. Bye Mom, love you….”

“Did you get your lunch?” she called out after her daughter, who turned around, surprised. Bucky and the others let her pass through them again, and finally the daughter left with her lunch. When she left, the mother shook her head, “She’s a biomedical engineer and I have to remind her about lunch.”

“You must be late, too,” Steve said.

“No, because of you I’m at work right now, come on in.” Mrs. Mboya said, “And yes, we can go straight to Mrs. if you’d like.”

Bucky suddenly remember the Wakandan love of titles, “Dr. Mboya?” She nodded, and Bucky realized that’s what she had expected. She tapped a kimoyo, and spoke as if this were an everyday thing, “Shuri, I’m starting work at home today. Sgt. Barnes is asking about an arm.” She tapped the kimoyo again and went back to eating her breakfast sandwich, “Mind if I eat?” No one minded. “Something to drink?” She asked. “I’m at work now, so the rush is over. I can even have something better than this sandwich.” She was relaxing as she spoke.

“We’re fine,” Steve said. 

“So, you want an arm,” Dr. Mboya said, beginning to beam before stopping and adopting a neutral tone. “There’s a lot of emotion tied up with that which I hope you talk with my husband about, but while I’m supposed to be neutral about it,” the smile came back, “Can I say I’m absolutely thrilled? We had one we worked on when you were still at the capital, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Are you simply asking if it is possible, or are you asking to have one?”

“Well, I just wanted to see if it were still possible, but yes, I’d like one,” Bucky said.

Dr. Mboya studied Steve and the others, “Is this a sudden decision?”

Bucky shrugged, “I realized I’m vulnerable with one arm.”

Dr. Mboya nodded, got out glasses, chai iced tea, bissap (hibiscus juice), and a few non-caffeinated teas to choose from before choosing some bissap for herself. With the drinks out, Natasha picked Ginger and Lemongrass tea, Steve, the bissap, and Sam the chai iced tea. Bucky still didn’t want anything.

“It’s a big decision to make out of fear. First, I think you need to talk to my husband and make sure that’s what you want, and then we can work on the arm. He may suggest we use the starter arm, or perhaps we can go straight to a permanent arm.”

“How expensive is it?” Bucky asked.

“You’re not expected to pay,” she said.

“Yes, the amount of debt I’m collecting…” Bucky began.

“No one’s keeping track,” Dr. Mboya said. “We have free health care.”

“I’m not Wakandan.”

“You’re a guest of the king, and not just anyone can say that. The only reason I’ve met him is I work with his sister. Look, the starter arm is cheap, it’s made of titanium.”

Bucky blinked, “The last HYDRA arm was made out of titanium, and that was the best they could do.” Dr. Mboya’s lips smirked at that. “And it was better than the other one.”

Dr. Mboya sobered at that. “That first one must have been dreadfully heavy. Stainless steel 18-8! What were they thinking?”

“I think that was cutting edge at the time,” Steve said.

Bucky paused, “Isn’t that what’s all through my body?”

Dr. Mboya nodded, “The arm was so heavy they needed counterbalance, and then they needed to reinforce your spine so that wouldn’t snap, and the serum is great, but it’s a sloppy way to deal with the biocompatibility problems and their barbaric, gigantic electrodes, and all. They didn’t know what they were doing and used the serum, which they also got lucky with, as their magic wand.”

“They weren’t lucky,” Bucky said, “A lot of men died as their guinea pigs.”

Dr. Mboya bowed her head, “I’m sorry.”

“They were amazingly advanced for 1940s technology,” Sam said, “I don’t know how they did it.”

Dr. Mboya nodded unhappily, “I’ve read the files, it wasn’t all done in the 1940s, they continued working on it through the decades. They had to have had outside help; probably the tesseract or something found with the tesseract.” She brightened, “But our titanium is superior to their best, and our electrodes are microfabricated, are completely biocompatible, and are elastic so they are very gentle on the brain. Did your arm cause you any problems?”

It took Bucky a moment to realize she was speaking English again, “What? Oh, no, it was fine, what do you mean?”

“When you fought hand-to-hand for a long time, did the arm heat up?”

“Yes, that was from over-volting,” Bucky said. “But it was never bad enough to fry the machinery.”

“So they knew about it. Did they do anything to fix it?”

Bucky shook his head slightly, “It didn’t affect the efficiency of the machinery.”

“Yes, but didn’t it hurt?”

Bucky looked at her, “So?” 

Steve sat down his drink, but Bucky didn’t know why.

Dr. Mboya nodded slowly. “You won’t have that problem with our arm.” She took a drink, “Your arm had some complicated machinery, did it break down often, especially the articulated fingers?”

Bucky nodded, “They were always working on the arm after a mission.” But he hadn’t had that for two years in Romania. “Some days in Romania, a few fingers would shut down, but then they’d work again.”

“We’re going to make sure those problems don’t happen with our arm,” Dr. Mboya said. She paused, “Would you like your new arm to match the color of your flesh arm?”

Bucky paused. Of course, he wanted the arm to look just like his flesh arm so if he ever left Wakanda, no one would know he had a prosthetic, but something inside him wanted it to look different because it was not a flesh arm. “I don’t know,” he said.

Dr. Mboya nodded, “Kimathi is going to have my head. I’m getting ahead of myself. This is all speculative because you need to work out for sure if you want an arm.”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone about it, I want an arm,” Bucky said, getting a little angry.

Bucky talked with Mboya, and they agreed to take it slow. Then he talked with both Mboyas, and Kimathi Mboya told him, “I wish I could push for a starter arm so we could see how you react to it.”

Bucky waved his arm, “How many times do I have to say I want an arm?” 

Kimathi Mboya nodded, “But we’ll have to reroute your nerves to give back some feeling, and we’re only going to do that once.” He paused and studied Bucky, “So I think you should go straight to a permanent arm out of vibranium.”

Bucky shook his head, “No, that’s expensive.”

“It’s the best material out there,” Neema Mboya said.

“Which is why it’s so expensive,” Bucky said.

“You’re not going to pay for it,” Neema said. “Anyway, would you like to go to Birnin Bashenga for testing?”

“Whoa, you think I can handle a city,” he said.

Her brows furrowed, “I thought you lived in the capital before you came here.”

“I did, but I spent the whole time in a house. I think I nearly went into shock when I saw the Golden City - never mind, I can take it now.”

That little comment meant Bucky spent a little more quality time with Kimathi Mboya, but soon he was on a flyer with Steve and his friends, Shuri, and Mboya. 

As they flew to the city and buildings started to resolve, Shuri kept it light, “See that mountain with the panther statue? That’s Mount Bashenga, where my Design Group is, but we’re going to the city just beyond, Birnin Bashenga. See that bump of the city? That’s the downtown.” The “bump” looked like half the city. As they got closer, she pointed out objects of interest, “The building with the rondeval on top is my favorite theater, and the open book over there is the library. That lit-up place is a sports center. We’ve missed my favorite eateries. We’re down.”

“We can still see your favorite places to eat,” Sam said. “Just on the inside.”

Shuri smiled, “We should once we’re done.”

“You didn’t point out the hospital,” Bucky said.

“Yes, well, you’ll get to know that one soon enough,” Shuri said. They started walking to towards it, but this time, Bucky was not thrown by passing by maglev trains, holographics hovering over peoples’ hands, lip plates, or anything else; he’d seen it before.

He’d been to Wakandan hospitals before too. Here, too, the hospital was light and airy, and clean but not sterile, with statuary in niches, friendly colors, an inside park for patients to walk in, and many patients’ rooms overlooking either the park or the outside. However, Shuri knew Bucky would value privacy over a gorgeous view, and they walked towards an inner room. Here, it was a little more hi-tech with a few more glowy things, but Bucky still felt at ease.

A circle of doctors were waiting for him, including Dr. Neema Mboya, who smiled when they came in. Shuri said, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave now for an important meeting, but we can meet up afterwards to eat.” Bucky nodded, for she was a busy princess. She indicated her assistant and pretended to be stern, “Nyambura will let me know if you behave yourselves.”

“Oh no!” Nyambura said. “Now I’m going to have to keep you guys under control.”

One of the doctors smiled and said, “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dr. Itobo, I’ll be doing the surgery to reroute your nerves into the arm so that you can feel.” Bucky nodded; he was surrounded by a psychiatrist, Dr. Kimathi Mboya; Shuri’s assistant, Dr. Nyambura Matshikiza; a medical doctor, Dr. Itobo; and the doctor who would make the prosthetic, Dr. Neema Mboya. Even though he knew most of them, he was glad his friends were with him, too.

Dr. Itobo and Dr. Neema Mboya motioned Bucky over, and Dr. Itobo said, “I’d like to look at your arm.” He knew she meant the stump of his arm, and to give him some privacy without leaving, Steve, Sam, and Natasha quietly started some low-level conversation. Bucky took off his jacket and shirt. “Is it all right to touch your arm?” she asked, and Bucky nodded.

Suddenly, Bucky heard Zola’s voice, “Sergeant Barnes... The procedure has already started.” The pain was searing as he felt them operate on his arm without anesthesia. He screamed, but he was strapped down. Desperately, he fought to break free, taking out a few agents in the process, and he almost succeeded when he was hit from behind. And there was darkness.

Bucky woke up with a fuzzy head and an annoying buzzing sound. “Bucky? He’s coming around,” came Steve’s voice from far away, suddenly growing closer as others seemed to join him. “You’re safe. Are you all right?”

Bucky squinted but found the lights too bright and closed his eyes. He tried again and focused on Steve, who looked worried for some reason. “Steve,” Bucky said, relieved that Steve had gotten him away from HYDRA. Bucky looked around.

“You’re in the hospital, do you remember what happened?” Steve asked.

“I was… in Siberia…. Zola,” Bucky said. “I’m in a hospital?” He was in a bed.

“You’re in Birnin Bashenga, do you remember that?” a woman doctor asked. For a second, he was afraid she was HYDRA, but then he decided she wasn’t, and that her name was Dr. Itobo. He nodded. She continued, “I’m sorry I went too fast.” Bucky remembered she was going to touch his arm, and he looked down at the stump. 

A feeling of dread welled up in him; those hadn’t been HYDRA agents he hit. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No, we’re fine,” Steve said. Bucky studied him and realized he was lying.

Bucky sat up, “Did I kill anyone?”

“No, you definitely did not,” Steve said.

Bucky looked around. There was now a guard at the door, and the doctors stood back a bit. Sam was there, sitting sideways to him. Natasha wasn’t. “Where’s Natasha?”

“She went to get something to eat, but she’ll be back soon,” Steve said, and Bucky knew he was lying.

“How badly did I hurt her?” Bucky asked. Steve moved wrong and winced. “Are your ribs taped up?”

“You got a little panicky.” Steve said, and Bucky put his head in his hand. “But everyone’s going to be fine.”

“How’s your head?” Sam asked, still sideways, but he glanced at Bucky and that was a mistake, because Bucky could see the black eye.

“Ohhh,” Bucky said.

“You are not at fault,” Dr. Itobo said, limping over. “Touch can unleash traumatic memory, and I went too fast and you had a flashback.” She was holding her arm protectively.

“I will never get better,” Bucky said, falling back onto the bed.

“You have made tremendous progress, but you’re going to have a few setbacks when pushed too far, and you’ve just had one,” Mboya said. “Everyone will heal, no one blames you, and we can get through this.”


	46. Second Try

They let him go back to the village, but Bucky couldn’t face anyone as he hid in his hut and sat on the floor. Natasha came by, and Bucky was relieved she could walk, even if she was stiff. She made a beeline for his bed and sat there for a moment before she could talk to him. 

“Hey,” she said. Bucky wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m assuming that you’re feeling responsible for what happened, but you aren’t.”

Bucky sighed, “Of course I’m responsible.” 

“I don’t judge people on their worst day,” Natasha said. Bucky still wouldn’t look at her. “I’ve told you about the man who was sent to kill me, but he saw something else in me, what, I don’t know, and he asked me to defect instead. He took me to his family, and it was the weirdest thing. No one fought each other to the death, or chained people up, or shot people for target practice. You know what I did instead? I made cookies, like you do, just not for goats.” 

“Did they have children?” Bucky asked.

“Not then, but they do now. ‘Auntie Nat’ they call me.” She smiled.

They looked at each other in silence. Finally, Bucky asked, “Are you angry over what they did to you?” Natasha nodded. “Have you forgiven yourself?” Bucky asked.

Natasha thought that over, “It’s not a matter of forgiving myself or not. It happened, and I can’t do anything about that.” She shrugged. “You move on.” Bucky looked at her blankly, and she paused, “You just… keep breathing, not dying. You know? You make sure no one controls you again.” She nodded to herself.

“That’s what I did in Romania.” They both fell silent. “Mboya wants me to forgive myself.” He paused, “He thinks I can make amends somehow.”

“When I earned some money from SHIELD, I gave some money to orphans in Russia so they wouldn’t go through what I did,” Natasha said, shrugging, “Silly, huh?”

“Mboya would say that’s a good idea.”

“What would it be for you?” Natasha asked.

“I don’t have any money, but if I did….I don’t know, maybe helping families of murder victims.” Natasha nodded. “Paying back half the transportation companies throughout Europe.”

“Services to POW’s?” Natasha suggested. 

Bucky nodded and smiled without emotion, “I have a lot of paying back to do.” He paused, “How do you manage?” 

“I turned everything into a little compartment,” Natasha said, “I told myself I compartmentalized because I was a spy, and I needed different covers, and it was that, but it was more.”

“Is that what I should do?” Bucky asked.

Natasha shook her head, “You have a good thing with Mboya.”

“He’s a life coach.”

“I know,” Natasha said. “But whatever he’s called doesn’t matter; sometimes it’s only the strong who can accept help, and it’s the weak who can’t.”

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

“No, you did.”

Eventually, he was at the point where he could try again.

They waited until everyone healed before moving ahead with the arm again. This time when they examined him, they had soft music playing, they went into even more detail when explaining procedures, and they worked their way up to touching his arm, asking permission each step of the way. Finally, Dr. Itobo had Bucky guide her in how she touched his arm, and when Dr. Neema Mboya needed to touch him, she did the same thing. Eventually, the two worked out what they needed to do and asked more questions about his past arm to prepare him for the new arm.

“How many degrees of freedom did you have with your arm?”

Bucky blinked, “Excuse me?”

“Movement. People can can move their shoulder, elbow and wrist in three different ways: roll, pitch, and yaw, and they can move their hand many different ways.”

Bucky stared a moment before saying, “I have no idea.”

“While you won’t have all degrees, you’ll have many, and I’m sure we’ll be doing better than HYDRA. Did you have spatial awareness?…. By which I mean were you aware of where your arm was without looking at it? Could you grab something without looking at it?”

Bucky looked down, “I grabbed guns without looking at them.”

“That’s good, this new arm won’t be such a shock. Did you have some sort of sensation in your arms? Could you feel holding a grape, or something?”

Bucky stayed looking down, “They wanted me to be able to strangle someone with both hands.”

“Did you have any sensation of feeling in your hand or arm or shoulder?”

“They didn’t want me feeling,” Bucky said, meaning more than the physical. “But I could feel my hand because it gave better gun control. Nothing else.”

“We can add feeling to the elbow, shoulder, back of your hand, mid fore arm, and mid upper arm.” She paused, “Did it hurt when you used your metal arm at its full strength to punch someone?”

Bucky frowned, thinking hard. He finally came up with, “It’s wasn’t a pain so bad I wanted to scream.” 

Neema Mboya nodded slowly, “We’ll add a little vibranium padding to absorb the energy.”

After many decisions, they made an arm, using what they could from the starter arm, but Bucky worried about the waste.

“We’re building on the inner workings, it’s just the case we’re not using,” Neema Mboya said. “None of us want you even comparing our arm to HYDRA’s. Your first arm in Wakanda is going to be perfect,” she smiled, “Because I’m going to make it perfect.” Bucky frowned, and Neema added, “Oh, and I’m edging the plates in gold if you don’t mind.”

Bucky blinked. “Why?”

“We’ll do a mockup first, and if you don’t like it, we’ll do it all in vibranium instead, but I’d like to edge it in gold because I like the idea of embracing breakage instead of hiding it. What happened to you broke you and took your arm, but you have gone beyond that and have built a life for yourself here. They dehumanized you in every way possible, and you fought back by living as a human being,” She smiled, “That’s like gold.” She paused, “Oh, and one final thing. I noticed from pictures that you wore a fingerless glove on your metal hand. Is this a preference or is there a reason you’d like to tell me?”

“I felt I could grip better with it,” Bucky said, suddenly feeling stupid.

Neema nodded, “You probably could. Metal doesn’t passively adapt to objects that are being held, but leather does a better job than metal. We could add a compliant coating - the concept is called compliance - to help with that, but feel free to wear gloves.”


	47. Getting the Arm

Finally, Neema Mboya showed him the arm, and she was positively glowing. 

Bucky prepared himself for a gold-edged vibranium arm and then turned to look at the arm; it was gorgeous.

“Holy cow,” Bucky said. He stared at it awhile. 

Finally, Neema asked, “Would you like us to put it on you?”

“Oh yes.” So they took him to surgery.

When he woke up from the surgery, he was surprised. “I don’t feel any pain, when is it going to hit?”

Dr. Itobo frowned at him, “I think you’ve felt enough in that area, don’t you think?” Bucky had to agree. “Can you move your arm for me?” He did, a feeling he hadn’t had yet in Wakanda. She had him move his arm in many ways. Then, “Can you touch the back of your hand with your flesh hand?” Bucky did and gasped; Dr. Itobo smiled. She had him touch different parts of his new arm, and his smile grew with each, for he hadn’t had been able to feel his left arm since 1945. He touched the spots over and over.

“This is a real arm,” he said. He moved the arm in different directions. “This is my arm,” he whispered, and Neema beamed. Then she let a relieved Steve in. “Thank you, I don’t know that I can say that enough.”

Dr. Itobo beamed, “Your face is thanks enough.”

But there was one thing he was still worried about, “Steve, can you get me a mirror?”

“Sure, Buck, why?”

Bucky lowered his voice to a whisper, “Is there anything on my arm?”

“Um, gold?”

Bucky realized he didn’t even want to say it. “Just get me a mirror.”

“There is no symbol on your shoulder,” Natasha said, coming in, and Steve looked at her. “What? You couldn’t figure that’s what he’d be worried about?”

“Of course,” Steve looked abashed.

Soon he was allowed to go back to Namayeza on the condition he go easy on the arm for a few days and let the doctors know if there were any problems with pain, feedback, overheating, jamming, or anything else. Steve just smiled, “I’ll make sure he goes easy on it.” Steve nodded, rubbing his hands together, “I’m thinking complete bed rest, hushed tones around the invalid…”

“Steve!” Bucky said. “It’s an arm.”

“….Mushy food, and I’ll be sure to hover anxiously over you.” He looked quite pleased.

“Can I get someone else to help me?” Bucky asked.

Sam nodded, “Sure, I’ll drop kick you, would you like that better?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Someone else?”

They all looked at Natasha, who shook her head at Bucky, “Not me.” She crossed her arms and looked prim, “Some people will do anything to get out of yoga.”

They all went back to Namayeza. “The wood pile is low,” Bucky observed. 

“I’ll do it,” Steve said, hopping to it, “Good exercise.” Bucky sighed because that was his job and it made him feel useful.

“Then I’m checking on my girls,” Bucky said, going to see his goats. Sam and Natasha followed. “Did you miss them too?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“No, we’re just going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” Sam said.

Bucky shook his head, “I don’t do stupid, that’s Steve’s department.”

The goats started running towards him when they heard him, and soon he was in the midst of them. “I’ve missed you,” he said as they bleated.

“Watch your arm,” Sam said.

“It’s metal,” Bucky said between goat kisses.

“The flesh/metal boundary isn’t,” Natasha said, five seconds before a goat found it.

After that he sat in his hut. He was content to stare at the wall - it was peaceful - but the children came by, and with them came Steve, Sam, and Natasha. “We want to play a game with you,” the children said, bringing out a board game. “This is ‘Kisolo.’” The board looked to be made out of sapele, a wood, and it had round depressions and colorful, partially opaque pebbles. “These are ‘seeds’ that we put in the holes to sow or capture.” Bucky listened to them explain how the game was played, but he was suddenly struck by how many people cared about him. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t listening for a minute, could you say that again?” he asked.

It turned out the game was only played by two people. “It’s going to be boring for everyone else,” Bucky said.

“Which is why we brought several,” the children said. So they all divided up and played. 

“It’s just like ‘mancala,’” Sam said.

“Oh, have you played it?” Steve asked.

“No, but I’ve heard about it,” Sam said.

As Bucky played, he kept touching his arm, luxuriating in being able to move and feel it. “Hey, could you hand me something,” Bucky asked Steve, “A glass of water?”

“Sure,” Steve said, getting the water and giving it to Bucky. “That’s not too heavy for you, is it?” Bucky shook his head and smiled as his new hand grasped the glass. Then he grabbed it with both hands just so he could casually have his flesh hand touch his new hand.

Natasha was smiling, “Did you want the water, or did you just want to use your arm?”

Bucky realized he hadn’t taken a sip yet and did so.


	48. Nothing Lasts Forever

Bucky couldn’t wait to show his arm to his sister, but when he next saw her via super-kimoyo beads or whatever they used, he waited for the proper moment. Because they hadn’t seen each other while he was healing, he let her ramble first.

But rather quickly, he couldn’t stand it, and he casually moved his new arm forward. Becca was still talking, “Where have you been that we couldn’t see each oth…. Bucky! You’ve got an arm! Let me see it. Oh, it’s beautiful! Oh my! I’m so happy for you! That’s an interesting dark material. So shiny!” He put the arm through its paces, and her mouth dropped. “That’s an amazing arm. Where in the world did you get it? Never mind, I’m just happy you have it.” They had a lovely conversation.

The joy continued during their next meeting, too. “It makes me feel so good to see you with two arms. Are you happy with it?” Becca asked.

“Very,” he said, and Becca beamed. Bucky loved it when she looked that pleased.

But eventually the conversation turned to other things. After awhile, Becca mentioned politics. “Did you catch the speech of the King of Wakanda? So regal.” She sounded a little fan-girlish.

Bucky froze, “No, what did he say?”

“President Ellis rants away, but the Wakandan king said,” and here she attempted a regal accent, “‘I would never harbor a fugitive assassin or keep one from receiving their deserved justice.’” She dropped the graveness, “I know that means you’re not in Wakanda.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Bucky said, his voice a little quiet. It was too much to hope the world had forgotten him.

“I’m very impressed with the king. He has created an outreach center in Oakland, California that is doing wonderful things, and he has two in Rwanda. I wonder where he’ll build next….. Which reminds me of what my two great-granddaughters did when…”

Bucky waited a bit after he’d talked with Becca to casually ask Steve, “So, what does President Ellis say?”

“What?” Steve asked, surprised, before turning vague, “Oh, nothing much. Why?” 

“King T’Challa is having to defend himself because of me.”

“Oh, no, he’s a king and he makes lots of speeches.” But Steve wouldn’t quite look him in the eye. “Hey, let’s go find the others.”

Bucky asked everyone else and got about the same answer. Each time, it infuriated him even more. Finally, he told Natasha, “Help me out here.” He waved his hands for emphasis. Surely she would understand his need to know?

“I would drop it if I were you,” Natasha said.

“Well, you’re not me. How bad is it?”

Natasha looked at him calmly and said absolutely nothing at all. Bucky’s hands dropped to his side. “Not knowing is stressing me out.” Natasha shook her head. Bucky started guessing, “President Ellis knows I’m in Wakanda and is threatening sanctions.”

Natasha took a deep breath, and paused, and Bucky stopped breathing. Was she going to tell him, or not? “He doesn’t know you’re here, and threatening sanctions is silly because Wakanda has been isolated for centuries and doesn’t trade with anyone. The only thing Ellis could cut off is the Wakandan International Outreach Centre in Oakland, and as that is helping Oakland, not Wakanda, that’s not a very good idea.”

“But T’Challa is taking heat.”

Natasha shrugged, “You know he’s a very smart man; he can handle himself. The worst that will happen is a delay in getting Starbucks here.”

Bucky tried to research it on the kimoyo beads but found nothing. Any time he thought an article was going to lead to a reference to him, it didn’t. He didn’t know how they were doing it, but he figured they were blocking it.

He still worried about his arm, too. Bucky checked to make sure no symbol ended up on his shoulder and took to carrying a small mirror to check. Even the children noticed. “Come here,” Lencho said one day when he and Steve were painting.

“What?” Bucky asked warily, for Lencho was holding a paintbrush but was looking intently at Bucky.

“Just come here,” he said. Bucky did so reluctantly.

Lencho came at him with the paintbrush and Bucky flinched. “Don’t be a baby,” Lencho said, “Hold still, I’m going to paint.”

“On my arm?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” Lencho said, “You’ll like it.” He sighed, “You’re right, I probably need to prime it first.” He started looking at his kimoyo beads, and Bucky looked over at Steve, who was frozen in the act of painting. They shared a look.

“What would you want to paint on his arm?” Steve asked, “He’s a little particular about that, you know.”

Lencho was reading his beads and huffed, “Okay, I definitely need a primer.”

“Guess you can’t do it,” Bucky said, as dead-pan as he could. “The paint could get into the inner workings, anyway.”

“I can still do it, I just have to prime it first,” Lencho said.

Bucky frowned; how could he say no? He took a deep breath, and tried to be as forceful as he could and give Lencho a piece of his mind, “If it’s not a bother to you, I’m not really sure I want anything on my arm, maybe later.” He stiffened for the rebuke he’d receive, but none came.

Steve looked as apprehensive as Bucky felt, “Maybe we should think this through.”

“Look,” Lencho said, “If you have something nice on your arm, then you won’t worry about someone putting something bad there.”

Bucky couldn’t imagine how it could work, “What were you going to paint?” Nothing would make him feel better.

Lencho sighed, “I was going to paint a goat.”

Bucky tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt his face light up, “That’s a dumb thing to have on one’s arm,” he said to counteract the smile.

Steve tried to keep from smiling too, “You know you could turn it into a personal symbol; a wild goat suits you. Lencho, were you thinking of a nice, strong silhouette?” Lencho nodded, and Steve and Lencho roughed out an idea by deciding what was essential to a goat and how to make a striking silhouette. They also ran it past Neema Mboya, and she said the Wakandan paint wouldn’t hurt the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Chadwick Boseman has passed away and it still hurts. It’s sad including T'Challa, but his part is just starting in my story. T’Challa will be alive until Ryan Coogler and Black Panther 2 say otherwise and I catch up to that.


	49. The Outside World

Bucky kept on wondering what was going on in the outside world, but no one gave him any clues. He was pleasantly surprised at how long Steve was staying in Namayeza, but after awhile, he wondered why they hadn’t left for more war dog assignments. Could they not leave Wakanda either, and was that because of him?

Finally, he watched Steve enough to learn when Steve took a shower in the morning and snuck into his hut and used his kimoyo beads. They were set up a little differently than Bucky’s but he quickly figured it out. 

He easily found loads of information on Steve’s uncensored beads.

“…The manhunt continues for the self-exiled enhanced individuals. The Wakandan King T’Challa also continues to defend leaving Steve Rogers and the alleged HYDRA assassin James Buchanan Barnes alone in the Siberian HYDRA facility as Zemo was brought to justice. The Wakandan king has been sharply criticized for letting the fugitives remain at large.…”

“…Tony Stark has increased his reward for any information on the whereabouts of the alleged HYDRA assassin James Buchanan Barnes.…”

“…The lack of leads regarding the alleged HYDRA assassin has caused increasing dissatisfaction with the level of King T’Challa’s involvement in the search for James Buchanan Barnes. There is a growing discussion of diplomatic or cultural sanctions against….”

“…The United States, the United Nations, and the European Union have joined together in diplomatic and cultural sanctions against Wakanda…” Bucky read faster and faster.

“…UN Special Operations fighter pilots have been seen patrolling just outside Wakandan air space in response to unconfirmed reports of HYDRA activity in Wakanda, possibly carried out by alleged HYDRA assassin James Buchanan Barnes. The fighters were mirrored inside Wakanda by the Wakandan Air Guard. This show of force is a sign that the world is serious about finding the alleged HYDRA assassin thought by many to be responsible for terrorism and over two dozen deaths….” 

“…There are unconfirmed reports of Wakandan Air Guard escorting a UN Special Operations fighter pilot out of Wakandan air space. Reports indicate that the fighter pilot denies that he knew he was in Wakandan space….” Bucky stopped breathing.

“…The Wakandan King T’Challa stopped short of declaring war, but he left that option on the table if there are more incursions….” 

“…Although the alleged HYDRA assassin has not been found, the United States, the United Nations, Russia, France, England, Iran, and Germany are all claiming jurisdiction if he is apprehended. Many countries are also suggesting that an international court try him….”

“…However, while many countries are clamoring for the ICC to try him, the ICC only tries cases when the state cannot, and President Ellis is adamant that he will be tried in Washington DC. ….”

“What are you doing, Buck?” Steve asked, causing Bucky to jump and land in a fighting stance. Steve had come out of the shower and was wearing only a towel.

“Wakanda is on the brink of war and you didn’t even tell me!” Bucky couldn’t believe it.

“That’s not true,” Steve said.

“A fighter pilot was in Wakandan space.”

“Yes, and everyone’s really upset about it, but they aren’t going to find you here, you’re safe.”

“They’re going to go to war!”

“T’Challa assures us that isn’t going to happen. They have a plan and we have to trust it.”

Oh, really? “If you trusted it why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d fly off the handle. I’m sorry we kept things from you, but…”

“Again.”

“…But nothing’s going to happen.” Steve paused, “Look, can I get my clothes on?”

Bucky turned around, and Steve got dressed. “I can’t let them go to war,” Bucky said.

“Good news, everyone’s agreed on that.”

Steve didn’t understand. “I can’t live with more blood on my hands.”

“It’s not going to happen. How about this? I’ll ask them to give us a hint as to what their plan is. Will that make you feel better? And I’m done, you can turn around.”

Shuri wasn’t happy when Bucky told her he didn’t want to be the cause of war. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

Steve, Sam, and Natasha stood beside him by the lake. “It’s not that we doubt your plan,” Steve said, “But if we knew what it was, it might make us feel better.”

Shuri frowned but nodded, “First off, their sanctions won’t work because we only just started making ourselves known to the outside world, and we won’t go to war. They can rattle their sabers around the border all they want, but there’s no way they’re going to get far into Wakanda. My brother just threatened war to show he was serious.”

“So your plan is to wait them out?” Steve asked. Shuri nodded.

“What if that doesn’t work?” Bucky asked. “What if they get further in than you expect, or HYDRA turns the world against you, or they capture someone you care about and hold them for ransom?”

“Then we’ll give them a tour of Wakanda.”

Everyone exploded, “What?”

Shuri nodded again, “We delete all records and evidence of Sgt. Barn…Bucky ever being here. The records would mainly be in the capital and here anyway. Then we let the foreigners look to their heart’s content. Because we haven’t opened up our cities to anyone, they would of course require an escort wherever they went.”

“What happens if they find something anyway?” Bucky asked.

“They won’t.” Shuri was very sure of herself.

“What if they fabricate something?”

“Then we expose it. I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to trust us on this.”

In a stroke of bad timing, Tamrat had to leave to go back to university. “I’m sorry,” Tamrat told Bucky.

“That’s smart, rats deserting a sinking ship,” Bucky said.

“It’s not that, I got an extension as it was to stay and meet Captain America.” 

Those who knew Tamrat well, which seemed half the village, met at the edge of the village by the flyer that would take Tamrat back. Friends with painted faces danced for him, and many sang along. Then Tamrat embraced people and accepted their good wishes. 

Tamrat came to Bucky, “I’ll miss those nights by the fire,” Tamrat said.

“I’ll burn a desert in your honor,” Bucky told him.

Tamrat laughed, “Only one?”

They embraced. “I’ll miss those nights too,” Bucky said quietly.

Tamrat said his goodbyes to his family. “When’s your next break?” His mother, Eshe, asked him.

Tamrat sighed, “We already went through this.”

“He wants to see someone else on his next break,” Bahati said,”Someone more important than us.”

Tamrat sighed, “I don’t know, I just want to leave it open, but I might be seeing friends.”

“Or parents of a certain female friend? Hmm?” Bahati asked.

Tamrat rolled his eyes, and Bucky realized there were whole sides to people he didn’t know about.

Then Tamrat boarded the flyer, and he was gone.


	50. Bucky’s Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: thoughts of death.

They stopped the chats with Becca as a precaution, causing Becca to cry during their last conversation, and Bucky prowled like a tiger the rest of the day. Bucky also kept an eye out for intruders, just in case.

Life continued, but suddenly, everyone was extra calm and smiley, but everyone denied that they were acting different. Bucky realized something major had happened, so he snuck in to use Steve’s kimoyo beads while his friend was in the shower. This time, there was personal protection on them, and Bucky couldn’t use them. He slipped away just before Steve came out, but as Bucky snuck out, he saw the Dora Milaje watching him and then suddenly looking away; no one ever commented about his attempt.

Bucky pretended he didn’t notice the change, but he became even more interested in studying Wakandan culture via the kimoyo beads. He knew his beads were filtered, but by searching for concepts adjacent to him, he got a clue; the world was up in arms about someone in Wakanda, and there was a good chance it was him. There seemed to be “proof” which was probably manufactured, but people were already primed to believe anything negative about him. He pondered what his response should be, and he started learning about other Wakandan technology.

He started grazing the goats around any flyer that happened to be around, and he did the same this day. Today, the only flyer that came to Namayeza was Shuri’s. He’d rather Shuri not be around when he put his plan into action, but he couldn’t wait another day. His stomach in knots, he ducked into the flyer, threw down his hand-made flying instructions on the console, and overrode the remote piloting that could take over the flyer.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” Shuri’s voice came through clearly, but Bucky ignored it. The flyer began to lift. “Bucky, turn it off.” The flyer lifted to the height of the trees before he felt it; the flyer was taken over and piloted remotely down. Bucky pounded the controls in frustration. He’d just shown his hand and failed.

The flyer landed, but Bucky crossed his arms and did not go outside. He waited to see if anyone would force the doors, but no one did. What would they do to him now?

He couldn’t escape Wakanda. Leaving on foot would end in failure because the Dora Milaje guarded the place. There was only one alternative; it was easy to kill himself, but that would destroy Steve, and he didn’t want to hurt the children. He was trapped in more ways than one.

Now Steve’s voice came through, “Bucky, let me in.” Bucky took a deep breath but did not move. “Bucky, I need to know what’s going on. Let me in.” Bucky couldn’t very well kill himself with Steve begging to come in! “Come on, Bucky, open the door,” Steve said. “I’m not leaving, so open it.” Bucky knew he wouldn’t. He pounded the console, leaving a dent, and hit the door-open command.

Steve came rushing through the flyer to the cockpit. “What are you doing?”

“I would think that is obvious,” Bucky told him, turning to him.

“Why are you trying to leave?”

Bucky lifted his hands, “Doesn’t everyone say I have choices? Why am I a prisoner here?”

“You aren’t. Bucky, what’s gotten into you?” Steve asked, before taking a deep breath, “Not that I’m pushing, of course.”

“Of course not. Everyone says that as they push me around!” His voice was getting out of control but he didn’t care.

Steve sat down in a chair, “I’m waiting.” Bucky felt his facade breaking, and the knots in his stomach threatened to come out. His eyes turned red, and he started breathing heavily, keeping it all in. “It’s okay,” Steve said.

“No, it’s not okay! Nothing is okay! Wakanda is going to go to war and thousands of people are going to die. How dare you say ‘everything’s okay.’ I can’t stand it, and I’ll die before I let that happen.”

Steve grabbed him and shook him, “Don’t you dare say that!” Steve let go and stepped back, a little surprised at himself.

“I can’t be the reason, Steve, I just can’t.” He couldn’t take it.

“You’re not going to be.”

“I know what’s going to happen, but I can’t let it.”

“Okay,” Steve said, “We need another plan; let’s talk to Shuri.” Talking to Shuri wasn’t going to help anything.

“No, she says they have it under control.” If he couldn’t kill himself, there was only one other way, and he didn’t know if they would let him, if Steve would let him. “Steve, I need to turn myself in, but they won’t let me.”

Steve looked stricken. “Please don’t do this.”

“I have to.”

Steve didn’t know what to say, so they walked out of the flyer together to find Shuri and the Dora Milaje waiting for them, and Sam and Natasha. “You did rather well for your first trip,” Shuri said.

“Not well enough,” Bucky said.

Shuri shrugged, “I still know more about flyers than you.”

“I have to turn myself in,” Bucky said.

Shuri shook her head, “You aren’t trusting Wakanda.”

Darn their trust in Wakanda! It was good enough for everyone but him. “It always ends this way,” Bucky said. “I won’t be responsible for more blood. Wakanda has been nothing but good for me and I won’t repay you back by causing a war.” She had to understand.

“I can see you feel very strongly about this,” Shuri said, “But we feel strongly about it too. You are under our protection, and you will not be a cause of war.”

“We could take some of the heat off,” Natasha suggested, “Let them find a body that looks like him.”

“And add an arm? What about dental records?” Bucky asked.

“Records can be changed,” Natasha said.

“Disfiguring a body would be disrespectful,” Shuri said, shaking her head.

“And it would cause problems for Wakanda if you are ever caught lying,” Bucky said. But it was nice of Natasha to try and think of something.

Shuri paused, “Do you know what would happen to you if you did turn yourself in?” Bucky took a deep breath, and Shuri continued, “They would charge you with sedition, terrorism, and murder. Because you’re enhanced, they would send you to the Raft.” Steve and Sam stirred, for Steve had sprung Sam out of there. “They’ve upgraded it since Falcon was there; it has a bio-energy dampening field to suppress superpowers. Some prisoners have inhibitors in their spines. The courtyard has a force field and thirty ray-guns. Passwords are changed every ten minutes, and codes on the triple doors change every two hours. The guards have electroshock weapons…” Bucky jerked at the word, “…that only work for a specific guard. They would see you react like that to the thought of electrocution and threaten you with it. We don’t know if they would put you in isolation, but it’s a good chance because they’ve been searching so long for you, and because Captain America sprung people out once already. If they do, you would be in solitary isolation for 23 hours a day every single day. Do you know what isolation in a metal prison cell under the sea would do to you?” Bucky felt shaky and wanted to sit down. “Prisoners report anxiety, panic, insomnia, paranoia, aggression and depression. It also causes feelings of claustrophobia.”

“I have to,” Bucky said quietly, feeling like he was going to pass out, and his voice sounded faint in his ears.

“Let us protect you,” Shuri said.

“Let’s think about it, okay?” Sam said.

Bucky looked at the sky while he still could; it was a beautiful blue with scattered clouds of varying shades. The wind ruffled his hair and rustled among the trees. He could hear the goats in the distance. He couldn’t hear the lake, but he knew it was there and pictured the wind rippling over it. He could imagine children running in glee through this very area. He would miss it all.

The group walked him back to the hut. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Steve said, holding a hand up, “I’m coming back in a minute.” Bucky didn’t have the heart to respond in kind. He needed to sit, anyway, and plopped onto his bed.

Steve hurried back and dropped some blankets from his own hut at Bucky’s doorway, setting up shop. “Go to your own hut, Steve,” Bucky told him, relieved to be able to sit on his bed. His hand ran over the texture of the blanket, remembering when he had first arrived.

“Nope,” Steve said, “I really feel like sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “At least take the bed; I’ll sleep on the floor.” Steve had on his mulish face, but Bucky got up and threw the mattress at him. “I can be mulish too.” Bucky slept on the bed frame, and Steve slept on the mattress.

In the darkness, Steve said, “Are you awake?”

“Of course.”

“This is like when we were kids.” There was silence for awhile. Finally, Steve said, “I trust the Wakandans.”

“I do too, but it always ends in a battle,” Bucky said. It did for him, anyway.

“I’m sticking to you like glue, so get used to me.”

Bucky wished it were that easy.

Life went on slowly. Bucky savored the moments he had in Wakanda, and his friends were his constant companions. Once he actually got past Steve at night, only to meet up with Natasha waiting for him just outside the door. “What are you doing here?” Bucky whispered.

“What are you?” Natasha whispered back, “I’m doing yoga.” She did have her yoga mat, but…

“Inches from my door?” Bucky asked, and Natasha nodded, unrepentant.

“What are you doing out here?” a very grumpy Steve asked Bucky, and Bucky went inside without comment.

They never told him who was making up the evidence that he was in Wakanda, but Bucky suspected it was the CIA working in concert with someone else; he hoped not HYDRA.

Then something else happened; Bucky could feel there was a difference. There were quiet conversations and looks in his direction. Of course, no one would tell him anything, and his stomach churned.

Before he could get anything out of anyone, the king of Wakanda appeared in Namayeza. T’Challa called for a conference with Bucky, Shuri, Steve and the others, and the Mboyas, and no one looked surprised. “What happened?” Bucky asked him. 

T’challa was graver than normal, “The U.N. Security Council is being held hostage at a meeting in Nairobi.” 

“HYDRA,” Bucky said, his voice rough.

T’challa shook his head, “The daughter of one of HYDRA’s victims and a man named Niko Constantin.”

“They want me to give myself up,” Bucky said.

“Yes, and they claim once you are in custody, they will let the Council go.”

“Don’t believe it,” Natasha said.

“Who is Niko Constantin?” Sam asked.

“The Wolf Spider,” Bucky said, remembering an angry bear of a man with brown eyes and hair. “He was the only one in that program. It was supposed to parallel the Black Widows, but the program failed because he was impossible to control. I was one of his trainers.” He forced the memories away, “Who is the victim’s daughter?”

“Tesla Tarasova,” T’Challa said, and Bucky sighed. “The Electric Ghost,” T’Challa said.

Bucky had killed her father in front of her. “She’s the daughter of one of my victims, not HYDRA’s,” Bucky mumbled. It was his fault, as always.

“No, you are not at fault, you were brainwashed; therefore, they are not your victims.”

“I shot her father when she was maybe six years old; I didn’t even know she was there. Her father was KGB and wanted to defect.” Bucky was just glad his orders hadn’t specifically mentioned no witnesses. If they had been, he would have shot a six-year-old without blinking. Now he shook just at the thought of how close he’d come.

“It wasn’t you,” Steve said.

“I have to turn myself in,” Bucky said, his voice gravel.

“There are several HYDRA bases with records that prove you put up a fight.” T’Challa said, “We have not yet gotten a guard into the Raft; guards are brought in randomly from top supermax prisons around the world, and there is no way for the guards and prisoners to touch each other. However, we have have someone else in play.” T’Challa paused, “If you go, we also offer a way for you to let us know if it is too much. Give us the word, and we will come for you. We can set you up with a way to communicate without alerting the cameras by pressing your tongue against your palate and the back of your teeth.”

Shuri frowned, “We don’t know if they will give you any medicine, and we don’t know if they will put you in isolation, but you have a way out.”

“If you go,” Mboya said, “I’d of course work on helping you deal with the Raft and with the reception you’ll receive in the United States,” Mboya said. 

“Sorry all your work will be undone,” Bucky said.

“On the contrary, it will be crucial to your survival,” Mboya said.

“Wait, you’re just going to let him go?” Steve asked in growing alarm.

“The lives of the Security Council are in the balance, and we only have 48 hours,” T’Challa said. Mboya sighed, knowing he had no time to work with Bucky.

“What makes you think they will be freed if Bucky surrenders?” Steve said.

“If it goes to trial, they’ll seek the death penalty,” Sam said.

T’Challa nodded, “We don’t know if they’ll be freed, but the woman may be reachable. The trial would clear Master Barnes, and then he will be free; but if it does not, and they announce the death penalty, we will come for him.”

“What if you can’t reach him in time?” Natasha asked.

T’Challa didn’t waiver, “We will come for him.”

“Forty-eight hours. I’ll never meet Becca,” Bucky mumbled.

“You will,” T’Challa said. “Say your goodbyes to Namayeza today; tomorrow we will take you to Paramus, New Jersey before you turn yourself in.” Bucky nodded, filled with grief even as a bit of hope tried to break through. 

“Stop it, there’s got to be another way,” Steve said. 

“No, Steve, this is what I want,” Bucky said, “This is my choice. Please.” This was the best he could hope for.

Steve fell silent.


	51. Leaving Wakanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve learned more about goats. There is now a lead goat named after Bucky’s mother, Winnifred; do everything with her first and you’re fine.

Bucky had always feared this day would come; he had to leave the safety of Namayeza and Wakanda. Bucky looked away from his friends and from Shuri and T’Challa. “I’ll need to tell….” But he couldn’t finish.

T’Challa called out to Eshe, “Master Barnes will be turning himself in to save the people of the Security Council.” Eshe gasped. “He will need to say his goodbyes today.” Shocked, Eshe turned to Bucky and hugged him. 

“I will miss you, but you have a home here if ever you can get back. Will you stay tonight?” Eshe asked Bucky, and he looked up at T’Challa, who nodded. Eshe hugged the dark-haired man one more time, and then left. Bucky watched her leave; she was the first new person in Namayeza he had talked to.

“You’ll get your hut back,” Bucky announced, trying to keep it light. “Maybe you’ll get a paying customer this time.”

“We will keep it ready for you so that you will always have a home to come back to,” T’Challa said, “The other huts we will let out to others who need healing.” T’Challa turned to Sam and Natasha, “Will you go with him?” He didn’t even bother looking at Steve.

“Of course we will,” Sam said. 

T’Challa nodded, “I did not want to assume. We have war dogs in Washington DC, New York, Vienna, and Nairobi, and they will contact you as needed.”

By that time, people in Namayeza were beginning to hear that Bucky was leaving. Eshe’s husband, Jafari, came first. “I’ll take good care of your goats; they’ll lack nothing, and I will tell them that you are a brave man.”

“My goats,” Bucky said, but it had been a fantasy that they were his, for all he had belonged to Wakanda.

Eshe and Jafari’s daughter, Bahati, came just behind her father. “Tamrat is going to be so upset. Let me get him on kimoyo.” She tried, but her brother didn’t answer. She glanced at Bucky, “I’ll keep trying.”

Sope and Winna came next. “The children are coming just as soon as school is over. We’ve told them to come directly here. You’re going to stay long enough to see them, right?”

Bucky blinked back tears and looked away. They didn’t ask again, so someone must have nodded.

Neema Mboya came with her daughter, Zenzi, and her boyfriend Bucky barely knew, Elimu.

The children came, a little worried because of the crowd of anxious people, and they ran up to their mothers who hugged them. Sope looked down at them, “Bucky is leaving us to save people’s lives because he is a great man.” Bucky wished people would stop saying that.

“What?” Thabo asked.

“No!” Zani said.

Bucky knelt down and they hugged him fiercely. Their words were muffled. “Don’t go! We want you to stay.”

“I have to…” Anything else stuck in his throat, and he just hugged them again. 

“But why do you have to go?” Thabo asked. 

Zani hit him, angry. “Go! We don’t like you anymore!”

“Don’t,” Sope said.

“I have to go or people are going to die,” Bucky said. He didn’t want to promise he’d come back because he knew he wouldn’t, but as he looked into Zani’s eyes, he said, “Look, if it’s ever possible, I’ll come back. It’s not looking good, but….” He glanced at T’Challa, “The Wakandan people are very smart, and if there’s ever a way…. we’ll find it.” He knew he was going to his death, but he couldn’t hurt his friends. They’d forget him soon enough, and by the time he was executed they would be on to new and better friends.

“Will you bring him back?” Thabo asked T’Challa.

“We do not know what the future holds, but we will do what we can,” T’Challa said. “He will not die, that I promise you.” Bucky didn’t comment.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky told the children before he couldn’t say more.

“I think an overnight here would be a lovely idea,” Sope said, and Winna nodded at the suggestion.

“I’d love that,” Bucky said. He saw Steve was trying hard not to be disappointed, “Can my friend Steve come too?”

“Yay!” the children chorused. Bucky smiled; he loved their enthusiasm.

Bucky made his last goat cookies, and the children helped. They fed the goats, and Bucky hugged the animals. He looked at each one in the face, “You be good for Jafari, do you hear?” 

“Meeh,” they said.

He rubbed Winnifred, “I know you’ll look out for everyone; you always did.” He let Becca the goat nuzzle him; she’d been the first to paw his leg. “Now you look after your sisters, okay?” Becca the goat nudged him again. He said goodbye to Sammie and Natasha the goat. At first Natasha picked up on his agitation and shied away, and he was afraid he wouldn’t get to pet her, but she finally came. He saved Stevie for last. Stevie had been the first to rub against him. “You…. you’re a strong and good goat; always remember that.”

Bucky walked around the lake one last time. Eshe made a feast that included all his favorite food: charcoal grilled lamb skewers in a nutty spice rub, Alkama rice, goat cheese, Jeweled Vegetable Pilau With Berbere Braised Lamb, river prawns in garlic and pili pili butter sauce, plantain stew with slow cooked peanut sauce. There was also catfish steamed in banana leaves for Sam, and for Steve, there were unspicy dishes like chicken with rice and also melon-seed stew. There was red bean soup in coconut milk for Natasha.

It ended with Mandazi donuts and Banana Cream Pie with Eshe’s Oreos. 

No one was actually hungry after that, but they had a fire that night anyway and had bacon bananas and malva pudding. Bucky burned a banana in Tamrat’s honor. Bahati took Bucky out on a brief walk under the stars with Steve, Sam, and Natasha, and the children followed. 

After the fire pit, Steve, Sam, and Natasha talked with him a bit while the mothers brought in cots for their children. Bucky’s hut was crowded with Steve and the children that last night, and he wondered if Natasha were just outside the door.

They spent the night reminiscing, but later in the night, after a bit of silence, Bucky asked the children, “Why did you stare at me in the beginning by the lake?”

They were silent, and then Thabo said, “Because we’d never seen a white man, and we wondered why you were here.”

“And you were all alone,” Zani said, “You looked lonely.”

“And weird,” Lencho said. Zani and Thabo hissed at him, but Lencho smiled, and Bucky nodded with a slight smile.

“I’d been through a lot,” Bucky said. 

“Then you suddenly turned and stared at us so ferociously we ran away, and we found it so much fun we wanted to do it again,” Thabo said, smiling in memory.

Bucky paused and glanced at Steve before asking the children quietly, “Do you know why I came here?”

Zani spoke, “Mama said bad men did bad things to you and forced you to do things you didn’t want to do. She said you’re the guest of the king, and the princess healed you, but we couldn’t talk to you because you didn’t speak Wakandan. Then we found out you spoke English, which we’d been learning, so we thought we could practice on you.”

“But we weren’t supposed to ask you why you didn’t have an arm,” Lencho said. “It’s okay to say that now because you have one again.”

Bucky and Steve glanced at each other, and Steve shook his head.

“Your mother didn’t mind you being with me?” Bucky asked.

Zani frowned, “Why would she mind?”

“You speak English very well,” Bucky said, changing the subject quickly. “When did you start learning?”

“When the king said we could learn English if we wanted to learn about the outside world, and I was curious.” Thabo smiled, “I started learning English first.”

“Only because I had a sociology test the next day,” Zani said. “I was curious too.”

“I didn’t see the need,” Lencho said, “But I’m glad I did.”

They talked into the night until Thabo and Lencho fell asleep. Interestingly, Zani only pretended to. Not knowing why, Bucky pretended to sleep too, and motioned Steve to do the same, but then Zani got up, picked up some supplies, and went into the bathroom and shut the door. After awhile, Bucky quietly walked outside his hut and motioned for Steve not to follow. Natasha was waiting there with her yoga mat, and they did yoga one last time. She was beautiful in the moonlight, which he thought an odd thing to notice at a time like this. “You might get out of this alive,” Natasha told him, “Don’t assume you’ll die.” He nodded but didn’t say anything.

In the morning, Zani revealed what she’d been doing in the bathroom late into the night. “I have a painting for you. It’s not as good as it could be because I had to work from memory.”

In the center was the lake, and around the lake were goats, with the children helping Bucky more than they ever did in real life. Circling this center were memories of other times: Bucky’s hut; Eshe bringing out food to the low wall; Shuri, Eshe and others singing around the fire with Bucky tapping one-handed and Tamrat’s marsh-mellows burning; Steve’s face turning red as he ate the pili pili sauce; dinner at Sope’s; painting by the lake; and Bucky playing ball with the children. In the top corners swirled Bucky’s planet, with Calidum Mammas and Glaciepitos, and Zani’s planet, with smiling Styletokthophasi grasping their ferns. Bucky’s eyes misted over, “It’s beautiful; I love it,” Bucky said, hugging her.

“You have to promise to come back,” Thabo said.

“I can’t promise, but I will try.” He wished he could for them.

And then it was time to go. All his friends gathered at the flyer that would take him away, some had painted their faces. Even the elders came, and he bowed to them. 

“I have him!” Bahati shouted, showing her kimoyo beads to Bucky. Tamrat’s holographic head hovered in the air. “Where were you?” she demanded.

“You won’t believe what happened. See it’s not my fault but my kimoyo….” Tamrat began.

“Bucky’s leaving Wakanda right now,” Bahati said. 

“What?”

“I want to say goodbye,” Bucky told him.

“No! Is it the UN Security Council?”

“You’ve been a great friend,” Bucky paused, not knowing if he’d overstepped boundaries. Had they been friends? Did people really care about him here, or was it simply their job in a healing village?

Tamrat lit up, “You have been a great friend too. Look, it’s not the end. You have plans, right?”

“We don’t know,” Bucky said.

“I’ll miss you,” Tamrat said.

“Me too.”

Bucky said goodbye to each person, and everyone reminded him this didn’t have to be the end, even though they were afraid it was, and they hugged him. Eshe handed him orange juice and bean-and-sambaza-fish omelets to eat in the flyer, peanut butter bread for the journey, and her best recipes for goat cookies just because. Jafari gave him kimoyo-video of his goats, and Bucky hoped he would be able to see it once they left Wakanda. Winna and Sope brought pictures of their children. Bahati gave him a picture of Pluto and Bast, where the Wakandans had their colony. Neema Mboya brought him a gold award that said, ‘Worthy.’ “To go with the gilt on your arm.”

Thabo and Lencho, having not thought to stay up painting for him, had run off and brought Bucky stones from the lake. “They’re skipping stones.” They looked at him, anxious that their gifts be found acceptable.

Bucky smiled at being given a piece of Wakanda, “They’re perfect.” He hugged the children. He wanted to tell them how much they meant to him, how they had made him feel connected and wanted, but he couldn’t.

The Wakandans sang and danced a sad goodbye, and then Bucky took one more look at Namayeza, taking in the scent and the rustle of the trees, and thinking of the goats he wished he could hear right now, the lake, his hut, and all the people he was sorry to leave. Who’d have thought they would be so many? He’d come as a stranger, and now… He couldn’t take it anymore and went into the flyer. The last he heard of Wakanda was the children crying, “Ingcuka!”

Steve, Sam, Natasha, Shuri, and Kimathi Mboya followed him into the flyer. As they flew off, they ate Eshe’s breakfast, and then Natasha gave Bucky a haircut so he could be presentable before meeting his sister. Then everyone gave Bucky and Mboya some privacy; Bucky looked over, panicked, at Steve. What reason would he give for talking with Mboya alone? But Steve only shrugged, “I know all about it; it’s good.” And with that, he gave Bucky and Mboya as much room as he could. 

The two had a quick session where Mboya mentioned anything that might help Bucky with what lay ahead. Mboya also brought out beers, and they had one last beer together even if it wasn’t at the lake.


	52. Paramus, New Jersey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Middle sister Evie has been renamed Constance, as in Constanta, Romania, Sebastian Stan’s birthplace. She won’t be called Connie because then she’d be confused with the Connie who was with Steve and Bucky at the World Exposition of Tomorrow.

They landed, cloaked, in Paramus, New Jersey; Bucky was finally going to meet his sister. Shuri ran a quick scan and nodded, “We’re fine.” They put on Wakandan versions of what Steve called photostatic veils and stepped out. 

The air was 20 degrees cooler and the humidity was considerably less than when they’d been in Wakanda, even though it was cloudy and looked like it would rain. There were box houses, neatly trimmed yards, and parked cars everywhere they looked. Bucky missed Namayeza already. 

“Bucky?” Becca called out from the doorway. Bucky gasped and ran up to her, hugging her as hard as he dared, afraid for her frail frame. He was holding his sister, and she was alive! They swayed back and forth and he never wanted to let go. 

“Can I see your face?” she asked, muffled by hugging him. He’d forgotten about the veil. He fumbled for it, forgetting how to turn it off, and Shuri had to turn it off for him before stepping back with a smile.

Becca started sniffing at the sight of him, “Oh Jimmy!” she said, falling back on his childhood name and hugging him again. Then she started wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I wasn’t going to cry.” She tried to laugh but couldn’t.

Bucky smiled, “You can cry all you want.”

“I don’t think I have time,” Becca said. That cut Bucky to the heart. “Let me look at you.” Her eyes went up and down, “You cut your hair! It looks wonderful.” She made to squeeze his left arm, “Wow.” He moved it to show its capability, and her eyes grew wide. They basked in each other’s presence for a moment more.

“Let’s go inside,” Natasha said, looking around and still wearing her veil.

Becca nodded and led Bucky in, glancing a welcome also at the others. Becca’s family waited for them, looking like they were going to burst. When Steve fumbled and then turned off his veil, Becca lit up, “There you are! So big and handsome! But you’re still Steve, I like that.” Steve smiled, knowing what she meant. Becca smiled at Bucky and indicated a blond-haired woman in perhaps her late 30s or early 40s, “Bucky, this is your grand niece Kimberly.” 

Kimberly’s smile was wobbly, “Hi, grand uncle Bucky.”

“Hello.” Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion.

Kimberly’s smile was still wobbly, “I haven’t seen grandma move so fast as when the girls peeked through the window and saw you.”

Becca indicated the two teenagers, “And these are your great grand nieces Madison and Makayla.”

“Hello, great grand uncle Bucky.”

“Oh don’t,” Bucky said, and everyone laughed. “Call me Uncle Bucky.” They smiled. At one time he was concerned about them having a boy’s name and a newfangled name, but now he didn’t care.

“Come on in to the living room,” Kimberly said, indicating the direction with a wave of her hand.

Bucky’s sister moved slowly and Bucky held onto her as they walked to the living room. Becca sat by two big photo albums and a box, and Bucky sat next to her. “How long can you stay?” his sister asked.

“Only a few hours, I’m sorry,” Bucky said. He wasn’t sure they had that long and hadn’t dared to ask, but Shuri didn’t correct him.

Becca’s eyes were turning red, but she smiled, “I have a few hours with my brother; I never thought I’d ever get that ever again.” She squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I failed you,” Bucky began.

“Don’t start, you didn’t fail us,” Becca said. “You’re here.” They held hands a moment, their thumbs rubbing against each other in reassurance. She stroked his hair, “You look so weighed down.” She caught herself and put on her smile again, “I still can’t imagine where you just came from.”

“Do you have something for us to eat, grandma?” Kimberly prompted.

Becca smiled at her brother, “I made you some more peanut butter cookies and a sugar cream pie.”

Bucky smiled, “That’s wonderful.”

“And I thought we could make some egg creams.”

Shuri smiled, “I just love drinks without eggs and without cream.” Bucky rolled his eyes at her.

For only the second time in this century, Bucky ate his sister’s peanut butter cookies, but this time she was right in front of him; he had trouble concentrating on the cookies. 

Then Becca said, “I have some pictures to show you, and sorry, but it’s not going to be thrilling for everyone else.” The others huddled around as best they could, but they were more concerned that Bucky had a good view of the pictures. Natasha and Sam made sure Steve had the next best view. Becca showed her pictures and opened up a world for Bucky: pictures from childhood and adulthood that he didn’t remember and a few he did, but Steve reacted to them all. 

“Here are our parents in Shelbyville; I know you know that but your friends wouldn’t,” Becca said. Becca went on to the next photo, “This is you when you were born.” 

“Oh I must see this,” Natasha said. 

“Dude, you were a baby once,” Sam said, smiling.

Bucky’s eyes went far away, “I was once.” He had no memory of Shelbyville.

“This is me as a baby in Shelbyville… this is us in Brooklyn Heights.” They stood by a brownstone row house, and Bucky figured they must have moved there. A young Bucky from another lifetime stood by his father, and his mother held baby Becca. 

“How old are you, man?” Sam asked.

Bucky didn’t know. “Eight,” Becca and Steve said, nearly together. Becca looked surprised Bucky hadn’t known, but she recovered quickly.

“This is baby Constance… baby Georgie… and this is Aunt Ida.” Aunt Ida was in front of a movie theatre, and the marquee said, “Metropolis.” “She loved that movie.” Becca smiled, “Mother thought she was weird.” There was a newspaper clipping announcing the discovery of Planet X. “Here’s you and Steve at George Washington High School….Here’s mother playing four-hand with me on the piano.” Bucky smiled because he’d already remembered that. “This is us ready to drive to Conway, New Hampshire to see the total solar eclipse.” 

Bucky suddenly had a memory of the anticipation, “Didn’t we go because you wanted to?”

Becca nodded, smiling. “Mother loved the one in 1925, but I was 2 then. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten a second chance at seeing one.” Bucky suddenly realized why he liked seeing the stars in Wakanda. “Here’s you at Machine Works.” The sign on the building said E.W. Bliss Machine Works.

Steve nodded, “You worked there when you first dropped out of school in the ’30's, before you worked at the Yard.” Becca stared a moment, surprised at Steve’s comment.

She recovered, “. …Here’s you at the Naval Yard, and here’s Father at the Yard. …This is me holding Princess.” Princess was a cat.

“Why did you name her Princess?” Bucky asked. It was a fair question, but Becca looked at him like he should have known.

“The Pussycat Princess,” Steve said, “It was a newspaper comic.”

“Here’s us listening to the radio, I think the Berlin Olympics but I could be wrong… Here’s me tap dancing… Here’s you and Steve at a Dodgers game… Here’s Steve at Auburndale Art School, I put that one in for Steve… Here’s father beside the USS North Carolina.” The ship was being built. “Here’s us at the New York World’s Fair.” Their parents weren’t in the picture and Bucky thought they had already passed away; Becca was skipping over the heartache.

Then there was a picture of Bucky, Steve, and Becca. Behind them and to the side was a man in a futuristic cape with broad shoulders talking to a woman, also in a costume. Becca smiled, “Remember you and Steve went to the World Science Fiction Con and I bugged you so much you took me the last day? Here we are. I swear I was the only girl.”

“You were the one who begged to come,” Bucky said, remembering. “But you weren’t the only one.”

“Well, I liked the science fiction magazines, too, I just sometimes liked it better when there were no women characters because they often did them badly.”

“And drew them so scantily,” Bucky said, smiling fondly. Becca just rolled her eyes.

Steve smiled, “I was so excited, Frank R Paul was the guest of honor.”

Sam spoke in a deadpan voice, “I’m excited too.” He made eyes at Steve, “Who is the dude?”

“He did the covers for lots of the science fiction magazines we read. He did the best aliens and cities and technology.”

“Are those costumes?” Bucky asked, looking back at the picture. 

“Yeah, they were the only ones, but people liked the idea. He was…. a Big Name Fan…”

“He wrote for fans and then finally got published in Fantasy Magazine or Wonder Stories or something,” Steve said. “Right?”

“Oh goodness,” Becca said, finally remembering, “That was Forrest J Ackerman.” Bucky and Steve looked at her blankly, “He was big in sci-fi fandom.”

“What’s sci-fi?” Bucky asked.

“Science fiction, it’s a term now,” Becca said. She frowned, “He might even have coined the word, I don’t remember.”

“Hm,” Bucky said, “Too bad they didn’t keep up the world conventions, but that’s a little much, isn’t it? World Convention.” Bucky thought the only reason it had been called a world convention was it had been run in conjunction with the World’s Fair.

Becca paused, “They did. It just didn’t make it back to New York for awhile, and they aren’t free anymore.”

“Did you go when it did?” Bucky asked.

Becca shook her head, “I was married with a young child by then and had gotten out of it,” she sounded wistful. “I never went to the local LunaCons, either. It started in the 50s or something, but it just wasn’t the same when you two weren’t around.” Becca looked up from the pictures and looked for a distraction, “But we’re boring our guests. Let’s look at more photos…. This is all of us at the World Series.” It was a picture of Steve, Bucky, Becca, Constance, and Georgie at Ebbets Field. The Dodgers had lost to the New York Yankees, and they’d ended up horribly disappointed, but the picture showed them when they still had hope. 

Bucky nodded, “We listened to them on the radio win their first pennant in 21 years, but by the time we catch a game in person, they lose.”

Becca shrugged, “Well, looking back on it now, it was fun everyone went to a game together.”

Then they went on to pictures taken after he’d fallen into the ravine, and Bucky steeled himself. 

“This is Georgie’s sweet 16th birthday,” she said, and he swallowed hard. He should have been there; this was the life he’d been denied.

“This is Constance’s wedding in Boston,” Becca said, and Bucky gasped as if hurt. The last time he saw Constance with his own eyes, she’d been 17, and here she was marrying. Becca pointed to the groom as if Bucky should recognize him, but he didn’t. 

Steve smiled, “Is that Patrick?”

Becca nodded, “Patrick O’Toole.”

Bucky stil didn’t know who she was talking about. Steve nodded, and told Bucky, “You were friends, remember?” Bucky nodded for Becca’s sake, but he didn’t.

“This is their first dance,” Becca said, but she pointed not to the glowing bride and groom in the photo, but to a picture on an easel beyond them, “They had a picture of you there.” Bucky made a sound in his throat and ducked his head. He’d died and life had gone on, with him rating only a little picture. He told himself at least they remembered him.

He wanted to run away from this place, but all of the sudden, memories flooded him: a brother-sister dance with Becca at her wedding, and “practice” ones with Constance and Georgie. He’d had “practice” brother-sister dances because he was going back to war and hadn’t known if he’d make it out alive; and he hadn’t.

Becca waited and studied his face before showing another wedding, “Then Georgie married Tom Paine in London, Ontario.” Bucky’s mouth fell open and he got closer. “That’s Georgie?” Georgie had been a cherub-cheeked teenager of almost 14 when he last saw her, but this woman was beautiful and confident. He’d been robbed of his chance to see his sister turn into this gorgeous woman, and pain rose deep inside him. He’d always known pain from what he’d endured, but now he knew pain because of what he missed.

“Would anyone like anything to drink?” Kimberly asked, turning to her daughters and whispering, “Get some drinks so he can get over seeing Great Aunt Georgina.”

“Georgina?” Bucky whispered, “She’s gone up in the world.” But he looked back at her picture; his Georgie had grown up into becoming Georgina, and he had never gotten to see that.

Madison and Makayla came back with waters and sodas. Bucky felt like he was in free fall and grasped for any distraction. He looked at the girls and actually paid attention to them for the first time. “How old are you?”

The elder, he thought Madison but he wasn’t sure, said, “I’m seventeen.”

Makayla said, “And I’m fifteen.” Bucky swallowed a reaction. Madison was the same age Constance was when Bucky last saw her, and Makayla was a year older than Georgie. He really wanted to leave.

“Maybe a stiffer drink,” Kimberly muttered, but no one brought out alcohol.

“How about some more pictures?” Steve asked brightly. “Unless they’re….”

“Did this sister have a picture of Bucky at her wedding, too?” Sam asked.

Becca nodded and turned the page. There was Georgie… Georgina, with a picture of Bucky at her wedding. What brother didn’t know his sister had grown up like that?

Becca turned the page and deflated, “Oh.” It was a picture of a game at Ebbets Field, and people looked pensive. She passed by without comment. 

“That was Ebbets Field again,” Steve said.

Becca nodded, “That was the last time we went before it was demolished. Sorry, it was supposed to go in the pile that definitely did not go in. I’m such an idiot.”

“At least you didn’t put in the funer… never mind,” Kimberly said. “More drinks?” No one had finished theirs yet.

“What funeral?” Bucky asked, but Becca’s look told him. “It wasn’t mine, was it?” He pictured all his loved ones sitting around a room crying their eyes out for the Bucky they’d known - while he was busying mowing people down as an emotionless assassin.

“So,” Becca said, going back to the photos and trying to check before revealing the next. Bucky felt like he’d passed his people-quota awhile back, but Becca kept going. “Oh, here’s a good one, a rally for NOW, the National Organization for Women. Constance got me into it; you know Constance.” Bucky didn’t remember her that well, but he could guess what the National Organization for Women might do, and he was happy to focus on it to get his swirling emotions in order.

She checked the next one. “Oh good, this is my son Michael marrying Lena Kaminski; they live in Florida now. I wish you could meet them, but maybe later.”

“We could call them,” Kimberly said.

“That’s a great idea,” Becca said. Bucky was still stuck on baby Michael marrying someone; last he knew Michael was crawling. 

“I’ll try to hurry through the photos so we can call,” Becca said.

“How many people are we telling that we’re here?” Natasha asked.

Becca paused, “We can’t tell my son his uncle is here?”

“The more who know, the more who might be in trouble when they are questioned,” Shuri said.

“Mom?” the teenager Madison asked, not aware of this possibility.

“They’ve already come by once, and we really hadn’t had contact then,” Kimberly said. “But if they come again, we tell them that you stopped by on your way to turning yourselves in and you’ll leave in a flyer so we won’t know where you’re going.”

“It’ll be cloaked, too,” Shuri added.

“How about some more pictures, then?” Kimberly suggested.

The next photo was a baby picture, and Becca smiled, “That’s Scott, he’s my grandson.” And another baby picture, “And this is Kimberly.” Everyone looked at Kimberly, now in her 30s or 40s, Bucky couldn’t tell.

Then a wedding photo, “That’s Scott marrying Keiko in California.”

And another wedding photo, and Kimberly spoke instead of Becca, “That’s my wedding.”

“Who’s the groom?” Steve asked.

“Andrew,” Kimberly said. Bucky looked around for him in the room, suddenly realizing he wasn’t there. “We’re divorced,” Kimberly said.

“Oh,” Bucky said. He’d missed so much.

And a picture of a museum. “This is Kimberly and the girls at Building 92 the year it opened to the public,” Becca said, “I didn’t go, but they took lots of pictures.”

Bucky felt weird and warm at the same time, because the museum looked like it was about the Brooklyn Naval Yard. “That’s nice that they have a museum about the Yard.”

Becca paused, “This is the Brooklyn Naval Yard; Building 92 is also the museum.”

“Oh.”

“Some of it was saved. The dry docks are still there, which is nice, and the Sands Street gate and the hospital. Cob Dock isn’t there anymore, and only one house from Admiral’s Row is still there.”

“I see.” The feeling of free fall threatened to come back. How was one supposed to react to one’s place of employment being gutted and turned into a museum?

“I don’t even know if you want to see the next one,” Becca said, and Bucky was sure he didn’t, “But I think it’s important.” She turned the page, and the next one was an opening day announcement for an exhibit, and the picture beside it was the exhibit.

“Oh,” Steve said.

Bucky looked closer, “Oh.” It was the Captain America Exhibit in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, but most of the pictures Becca had were of the memorial for Bucky, “A Fallen Comrade.” A memory flooded Bucky of being at the exhibit, reading about this guy named Bucky Barnes. At first he’d thought it wasn’t him, but after reading it awhile, some details had almost sounded right. “Seen it,” Bucky said, trying to keep his face neutral. 

“Kimberly and the girls went opening day,” Becca said.

“The tickets were almost impossible to get,” Kimberly remembered, “And the lines….”

Bucky turned to his 94-year-old sister, “You didn’t go?” 

Becca shrugged, “Traveling’s hard, and it was in Washington DC. I wished it had opened when I was younger. Kimberly brought back everything they had on you, and she took pictures of everything.” Bucky’s eyes lost focus, and so did Becca’s.

Kimberly asked a question in a prompting tone, “So what’s in the box, grandma?” 

Sam decided a joke was in order, “Kimberly, could you call Bucky ‘grandpa’? I’d like to see that.”

“Would you like a knuckle sandwich?” Bucky asked.

“No, that’s okay, but thanks for thinking of me,” Sam said.

Becca opened the box, “I know you can’t keep these where you’re going, but when you come back I will give them to you, all of them, but I wanted to show you a few.” Bucky gasped and his stomach turned. It was a Purple Heart w/ Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster.

Steve had recommended him for a Purple Heart in 1943 after he was a POW, but this Purple Heart had a Bronze Oak Leaf Cluster ribbon attached, which was in lieu of a second Purple Heart. “I didn’t have a Bronze Oak Leaf,” Bucky said, looking at the ribbon, although he started to guess why as soon as he said it. 

Steve cleared his throat, “I recommended you for the second one when you were blown off the train as a direct result of enemy fire.”

Bucky concentrated on not reacting, but the screaming was ready to start.

Becca took a deep breath and showed the next one. Bucky blinked blankly at it. “It’s a Prisoner of War medal.” Bucky couldn’t breathe. “They started them in the ‘80s I think, and it was retroactive. I…. requested one for you as next of kin.”

Bucky did the only thing he could think of, he took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let it out. He did it again because he was still panicky. “You’ll have to give it back, I’ll bet it required honorable conduct while in captivity.”

Becca looked puzzled, “No one has ever accused you of doing anything wrong in 1943.”

“1943?” Bucky asked, “What about now?”

“This is for that month you were a POW in 1943, when Steve freed you.”

“Oh, well… good,” Bucky said.

“I didn’t think about it,” Becca said, “Were you a POW again?”

“Well I surely didn’t volunteer to join HYDRA,” Bucky said, a little hot.

“We thought you died,” Steve said, stone-faced.

“I’m sorry,” Shuri said in a quiet voice, “But it’s time to go.”

“No!” Becca said, throwing her arms around her brother. 

“Becca, I need to go,” he whispered.

“No, stay, we’ll hide you.”

It never occurred to Bucky that it would be this hard, “I’m so sorry.”

“But you just got here.”

“Becca, I have to go or people are going to die.” Becca’s eyes turned red, and Bucky rocked her back and forth. “I’m sorry.” Bucky quietly backed away and let Kimberly grab her grandmother’s hand and give it a squeeze. Becca tried to put on a smile for her brother, but it fought with her red eyes.

“I love you,” Becca told him.

Bucky ducked his head for a moment as if hit. He had a hard time meeting her eyes, but he finally did and managed a nod. Bucky wanted to give a final speech, but he couldn’t, and he turned around and walked out.

Natasha walked out with him, “Put the veil on,” she whispered. He looked at her stupidly for a moment before fumbling for it. Then Bucky was in the flyer, not even sure how he got there. They waited for a moment and Bucky didn’t know why until Steve boarded last. 

“Don’t worry, I said our goodbyes,” Steve said. “They understand.”


	53. The Last Trip

Mboya talked with Bucky for half the trip, and then Mboya disappeared and Steve, Sam, and Natasha sat with him. “This isn’t the end,” Steve said. Bucky nodded, knowing that it was.

They touched down briefly in Birnin Zana to pick up King T’Challa; it would be a quick ride to Nairobi, and they couldn’t help but think about what came next.

“I thought the UN Security Council was in New York, not Nairobi,” Sam said.

“It is,” T’Challa said,”But they were holding a rare session in Nairobi; the UN Office at Nairobi houses two other agencies and is the UN headquarters in Africa.”

They flew over Tanzanian air space, and then Lake Victoria. Just past Lake Victoria, they entered Kenyan airspace. T’Challa motioned to Bucky to come to cockpit, “I want this to come from you.”

Bucky nodded, and when Kenyan air control asked what they were doing, Bucky took a breath and said, “This is James Buchanan Barnes turning himself in; I request permission to land at the United Nations Office at Nairobi.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Permission granted. We will deploy two Kenyan Air Force fighters to escort you down.”

Then the land below them grew browner as they flew over what looked like a mountain. In the silence, Shuri turned into a tour guide. “That’s Mount Suswa, a shield volcano,” They flew to a city, Nairobi, and in its northern section was a forest. “That’s Karura Forest.” As they got closer, there was city beside the forest. “Girigiri, an expat suburb.” 

They landed in the grass in front of the UN Visitor’s Service but did not move to go outside. Bucky didn’t look at Steve or the others, but he said, “I don’t suppose you’ll do the smart thing and stay inside? I don’t want you to get in trouble, too.”

“It’s too late for that, Buck,” Steve said. “Where you go, I go.”

“I don’t think they’ll let you stay with me for long,” Bucky said, watching Girigiri police surround their flyer.

“Are we going to need to contact the US embassy here?” Sam asked.

“They are across the street,” T’Challa said. They couldn’t see the street from where they were, for everything was spread out.

Shuri turned to Bucky, “I will miss you. When you get out of this, I want you to come back to Namayeza,” she tried to smile, “I will even study the waves with you.”

Bucky tried to smile as well, “Well, that’s serious.”

“You’re not dead yet,” Natasha reminded Bucky, giving him a nod. “Say the word, and we’ll come get you.”

“You’re one brave dude,” Sam said.

Bucky looked at Steve, who shook his head, not able to speak. They clapped each other on the back. Finally, Steve, got out, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bucky smiled sadly, “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

“Ready?” T’Challa asked, and Bucky nodded. 

The flyer opened, and just before Bucky walked out with T’Challa, the king said, “Remember the sensors in your teeth; we’ll be tracking you.” They walked out, followed by Shuri, Steve, Sam, and Natasha. Mboya was the only one who stayed inside.

The Girigiri police and the Diplomatic Police Unit surrounded them immediately. With them were two official-looking people who introduced themselves as the Director-General of the UN mission, and the US Ambassador to Kenya. The Director-General looked at T’Challa, “Thank you for turning him over.”

“I didn’t; he asked to turn himself in,” T’Challa said.

They put Bucky’s hands behind his back, pushed him into a prone position, and handcuffed him. He studied the grass in front of him. The temperature and humidity reminded him of Namayeza. He looked up, and there were many trees and open spaces. The sky was cloudy, and he wondered if it would rain here, too. 

“Sgt. Barnes has fulfilled the conditions set by the hostage-takers,” T’Challa said.

They stood Bucky up, and he looked at the officials and indicated his friends with a jerk of his head, “Will you let them go free?”

“They have to answer for what they’ve done as well,” the ambassador said, but his eyes widened when he saw Captain America. The police pushed Bucky, and he started moving away, but he listened to what happened behind him.

Someone radioed the hostage-takers, “We have Barnes.”

“Good, give him to us,” Niko said.

“No, the deal was he be in our custody.”

“Well, the deal’s changed,” Niko said.

“Niko!” Tesla said. “That’s not what we agreed.”

“Wouldn’t it be sweeter if we were the ones to kill him?”

“Well….”

Bucky had gambled everything and lost.

As Bucky was taken away, he glanced back at his friends who were watching him back. His glance caught at Natasha, but his last glance was at Steve.

Bucky was put in a small steel cell with a tiny, barred window; the cell contained only a black chair. It had to be black; he hated black chairs. Bucky started hyperventilating, causing the guards to be nervous, and they shoved him in without taking the shackles off. He took a few deep breaths and then laboriously worked until he could sit. That’s when the guards came back in and put shackles on his feet, too. His tongue flicked to the sensors behind his teeth, on his palate, and the floor of his mouth, but he didn’t apply pressure. He took more deep breaths and imagined himself doing yoga by moonlight. Then as much as possible, he turned off. 

He had no idea how long he stayed that way. From far away, a voice said, “Bucky! Bucky!” It was Steve! Bucky roused and looked through the tiny window. Steve was on the other side, looking anxious. “The hostages are safe. There was a shootout, but no one’s dead yet, and Tesla is in custody.” He’d saved the hostages. But Steve hadn’t said anything about Niko, and Bucky wondered if he’d gotten away.

“That’s long enough,” a guard said beside Steve. The guard must have turned to others, “Let’s take him to the Raft.”

Steve sighed, “I have to go, but remember to hold on. No matter how they treat you, you are a human being.”

And then Steve was gone, and Bucky considered this. He had learned that he truly was a human being, no matter what people did to him, but it was so easy to fall back into old habits, and it was less painful. Did he really want to go through prison as a feeling person? How long could he hold out anyway? A large squad of soldiers surrounded the cell and accompanied him to a waiting helicopter. The man in charge of the squad reminded Bucky of HYDRA, and his mind was made up; he was going to fight for his humanity for as long as he could.


End file.
